


Sherlock: He Does Look Quite Dashing

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Public Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DI Lestrade is sick of the rumours. His wife thinks he’s cheating, Sherlock Holmes thinks he’s in a relationship, and John Watson just smiles knowingly. And why is it so annoying? Everybody thinks Greg is with Mycroft Holmes! But he’s not... is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fighting

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Sherlock: Él sí que está bastante guapo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334749) by [Lilu Traduce (LilusMischiefs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilusMischiefs/pseuds/Lilu%20Traduce)



> Ownership: Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, these versions are owned by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.

‘For fuck sake, Millie! Just because I hang out with Mycroft Holmes doesn’t mean we’re bloody sleeping together! I’m not gay and neither is he!’

Greg Lestrade sighed. He was sick of having this conversation with his wife. Greg had been spending a lot of time with the elder Holmes lately, but they were just friends. Greg had never felt sexually attracted to a man and Mycroft was the same. Just because two men hang out together doesn’t mean they’re involved.

Millie Lestrade snorted and folded her arms. ‘Yeah right, Greg. I see the way you two look at each other.’

‘What? So now if I look at a guy I wanna sleep with him? So every time I see Sherlock, or John, or even Dimmock, I wanna fuck them, is that it?’

‘No,’ Millie hissed, ‘because they’re not Mycroft Bloody Holmes!’

Greg ran his hands through his greying hair. ‘Millie, we’ve been over this a hundred times, alright? I am _not_ having an affair!’

He wanted to shout that he wasn’t her but the thought of Millie with another man stung. He knew she was cheating on him, he’d seen all the little clues. But he bit his tongue and folded his arms.

Millie glared at him. ‘Don’t lie to me, Greg! Just don’t! Admit that you’re with him!’

‘I’M NOT WITH HIM!’ Greg exploded. Millie flinched as Greg grabbed his jacket and keys. He’d had enough, he wasn’t staying here.

 _Let Millie think what she fucking wants,_ he seethed as he slammed the door to their flat. _I don’t give a fuck._

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg found himself wandering London aimlessly. After two hours of trying to talk himself out of it, he bought a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one quickly and exhaled with a sigh, the nicotine flowing through his bloodstream.

‘Starting up again, Gregory?’

Greg smiled and turned. Standing behind him on the dark street was none other than Mycroft Holmes. He was taller than Greg, better dressed, and a lot better looking in Greg’s opinion.

Really, the two men couldn’t have been more different. Mycroft’s hair was dark brown, Greg’s grey. Mycroft had icy blue eyes, Greg had dark brown eyes. Mycroft was very tall, Greg was just tall.

And Mycroft Holmes was a very, very intelligent man. And dangerous.

Greg wasn't even allowed to carry a gun.

‘Hello Mycroft,’ Greg smiled and looked at his cigarette. ‘Yeah, starting again.’

‘May I enquire as to why?’ the smooth voice asked as its owner got closer. Mycroft stood by Greg and looked down at him.

‘Millie and I had a fight,’ Greg admitted.

‘Oh? What about?’ Mycroft actually sounded like he genuinely cared and Greg found himself smiling.

‘Er, nothing. Just something stupid.’ Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

‘You wouldn’t be wandering the streets of London on a Saturday night if it was about nothing, Gregory.’

Mycroft was the only person who ever called him Gregory. Well, except his mother, who only shouted it at him when she was angry.

‘It was... nothing, really,’ Greg said again.

Mycroft continued to look sceptical but he let it go. Taking a deep breath, he looked around and said, ‘It’s a nice night.’

‘Yeah,’ Greg grunted.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘So well articulated, Gregory.’

Greg smiled.

‘She’s thinks we’re sleeping together, doesn’t she?’ Mycroft mused.

Greg stuttered and dropped his smoke. He stared at Mycroft, who was looking quite smug with the reaction.

‘I... wh-what?’

‘Your wife,’ Mycroft said. ‘Mrs Lestrade is under the impression that you and I are having an affair.’

He was staring at Greg now, his eyes bright and piercing. Greg knew there was no point in lying.

With a sigh, he picked up his cigarette and said, ‘Yeah, she does. I keep telling her to stop being so stupid.’

Mycroft made an amused noise. ‘Yes, well. When two men spend a lot of time together there are bound to be rumours.’

‘Yeah,’ Greg snorted, ‘just look at Sherlock and John.’

‘My brother and the good Dr Watson are a perfect example,’ Mycroft nodded his agreement. ‘My brother is as asexual as they come and Dr Watson is most definitely straight. However, because they live together and flirt endlessly, they _must_ be sleeping together. Unfortunately that is not the case.’

‘Unfortunately?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded and leaned against his ever present umbrella. ‘My brother would do well to have a romantic relationship. But he doesn’t seem to care very much about anything sex-related with either gender. Unless the person is dead, he doesn’t care about anyone... despite yourself, Doctor Watson and me.’

Greg nodded. ‘Mm. He’d probably calm down a bit if he got a shag.’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Indeed.’

Both men lapsed into companionable silence. They’d spent many nights together, mostly sitting at restaurants, cafes, or even at Mycroft’s flat. They found each other’s company refreshing and it gave them both a chance to complain about work and Sherlock.

‘Well, not that this isn’t lovely,’ Mycroft said suddenly, ‘but I have dinner waiting at home. Would you care to join me, Gregory, or are you planning on going home?’

The thought of spending another silent night on the couch made Greg’s heart ache. ‘Nah, not going home,’ he said. ‘Um, yeah, I’ll come by.’

A black car slid to a stop before them and Greg smiled.

‘Show off.’

Mycroft chuckled.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg ended up in Mycroft’s spare bedroom (which was actually bigger than his bedroom at home). Millie tried calling his mobile but Greg ignored her.

He changed into his spare clothes at the office and was called away to a crime scene. The boy had been stabbed twelve times and Sherlock Holmes danced about, watching John Watson peer at the body. Greg sipped his coffee and fidgeted. He’s smoked all his cigarettes the previous night and was itching to buy another packet.

‘Smoking again, Lestrade?’ Sherlock asked.

Greg ignored him.

‘And you didn’t go home last night.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Greg muttered, ‘My fingers are twitching, I smell like smoke, and I’m wearing my spare clothes.’

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. ‘Very good, Detective Inspector. There’s hope for you yet.’ He turned and John approached to tell them what he’d found.

‘It was the uncle,’ Sherlock announced, ‘he tried to rape the boy and the boy fought back. You’ll find the uncle’s DNA under his sneaker. Now run along, Lestrade, go find the bad guy.’

‘Thanks, John,’ Greg said. ‘And Sherlock, too, I guess.’ He smiled when Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

‘Are you sleeping with my brother yet?’

Greg’s mouth fell open and John glared at his flatmate.

‘Sherlock!’ he said.

‘What?’ Sherlock asked, his face a mask of innocence. ‘I simply asked a question of the good Inspector.’

‘That... what... how... what the bloody hell are you on about?’ Greg demanded.

‘I simply asked,’ Sherlock said slowly, like Greg was stupid, ‘if you are yet to have sexual relations with my elder brother, Mycroft. Would you like me to spell out his full name? I could, it’s quite a funny name.’

If possible, Greg’s jaw dropped even further. ‘I... what... no!’

‘Oh,’ Sherlock said, looking him up and down. ‘I just thought since you spent the night at his flat that you two would have finally decided–’

‘How’d you know I was there last night?’ Greg demanded.

Sherlock tutted. ‘Detective Inspector, _please._ You already confirmed my deduction that you didn’t go home last night. Over the past several months you and my brother have grown considerably close. I assumed, naturally, that you spent the night there as my brother would have been the one to find you wandering the streets of London last night after your fight with your wife. And, of course, I could smell that shampoo that Mycroft keeps in his guest bathroom.’

He paused.

‘Hmm, I suppose I should have deduced that you and Mycroft were yet to sleep together with the smell of the shampoo. If you _had_ engaged in sexual intercourse, you would no doubt have smelt of that awful cologne Mycroft wears.’

Greg glared at him. Mycroft’s cologne wasn’t awful. If anything, it smelt good to Greg. John sighed again at the look of anger that flashed across Greg’s face.

‘Sherlock, it’s none of your business,’ John mumbled.

‘We are _not_ sleeping together!’ Greg hissed. ‘I’m bloody married and neither of us is gay!’

‘Yes, of course not,’ Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes. ‘Everybody is so happy with their little sexual titles and even the suggestion of moving from under said title is met with anger. John, let’s go before Lestrade explodes.’

And he swept away, all dramatic swirl of his coat. John looked at Greg.

‘Sorry about him,’ he muttered.

‘It’s alright,’ Greg replied. ‘I’m used to it.’

John smiled weakly before following his flatmate.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Sherlock was right, of course. Greg and Sally Donovan knocked on the door and when the uncle saw who it was he bolted. Greg tackled him but the man kicked at him, snapping Greg’s head back. He winced as the man slipped away upstairs.

Greg was back up and he chased after him, Donovan following quickly. The uncle was trying to climb out the window when Greg tackled him, both crashing to the ground. The man smashed his fist into Greg’s stomach and he grunted but didn’t let go.

Greg twisted the man around and pulled out his cuffs.

‘Norman McNeill, you’re under arrest for the murder of Scott William McNeill. Anything you say can and will be used against you.’

He slapped the cuffs on and Donovan helped him up.

‘You’re bleeding,’ Donovan said as they hauled him downstairs.

Greg raised a hand to his face. His nose was tender, his cheek bruised, and he felt blood dripping down his chin. It had stained his shirt and Greg sighed. Now he _had_ to go home.


	2. Kissing

Greg was sitting in his office, head tilted back. His nose had stopped bleeding but there was still a scrape along his cheek. He pushed ice, wrapped in a napkin, against the tender skin and sighed.

‘You look quite dashing with your face scraped up, Gregory.’

Greg looked up and smiled. Mycroft Holmes stepped into the office smiling and sat himself down gracefully before Greg.

‘Hello,’ Greg said.

‘I heard what happened,’ Mycroft said and winced as he looked Greg over.

‘That bad?’ Greg asked.

‘Well, your nose is slightly swollen, your cheek as well, and you’re cheek won’t heal for three weeks.’

‘Lovely,’ Greg groaned.

‘It’s not all bad,’ Mycroft tried.

Greg rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Mycroft. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘You still haven’t spoken to Millie?’

‘No,’ Greg sighed. ‘And I don’t want to. She keeps demanding to know where I am all the time and thinks I’m cheating on her with everybody. She’s the bloody one cheating on me.’

‘Why don’t you just get a divorce?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg winced.

‘I apologise, that was rude.’

‘No, you’re right. I should,’ he sighed. ‘But she’ll get everything, then I’ll have to find a new place and... God,’ he sighed. ‘My life is one big mess.’

Mycroft smiled warmly. ‘I am always here to help, Detective Inspector. Feel free to stay at my place tonight, or as long as you need.’

‘Really?’

Mycroft nodded.

‘But I need clothes.’

Mycroft smirked. ‘Are you under the impression I go everywhere naked?’

Greg chuckled. No, Mycroft was far from naked. He wore a three-piece suit every day and looked quite dashing in them.

With a small smile, Mycroft said, ‘Let’s go, Gregory. I’m sure your superiors won’t mind you leaving early.’

‘They won’t?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft shook his head. ‘If they do, they have to answer to me.’

Greg laughed.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Mycroft’s flat was very big, very expensive, and very nice. It had a view of London and it glowed in the night. Mycroft was suddenly beside Greg, handing him a beer.

‘Hey, my favourite,’ Greg smiled and sipped from the bottle.

Mycroft smiled. ‘Yes, I remembered. I thought I’d buy some seeing as how you’re always turning up here.’

‘You invited me,’ Greg pointed out.

Mycroft just smiled.

They moved to the couch and Mycroft flicked on his wide-screen TV. There wasn’t anything on so they talked instead, Greg drinking beer, Mycroft wine.

Greg looked at his watch and realised it was four am. He and Mycroft had been talking for close to five hours.

‘Damn,’ he said, ‘I should get some sleep.’

‘Sleep is dull,’ Mycroft commented and sipped his wine.

Greg rolled his eyes. ‘All you Holmeses are weird.’

‘I am not weird!’ Mycroft protested and Greg laughed. Mycroft placed his wine glass on the coffee table and folded his arms. ‘I’m not weird.’

‘You are so,’ Greg giggled and moved closer. ‘You’re as weird as Sherlock.’

Mycroft frowned and Greg knew he was pushing it. But the politician was so funny when he was pouting.

‘You’re we-eird,’ Greg chuckled, elongating the last word.

‘Am _not_ ,’ Mycroft said and his eyes narrowed. He shuffled closer to Greg so their legs were touching. ‘You, DI Lestrade, are the weird one. You allow my brother to run around crime scenes and upstage you.’

‘What?’ Greg protested and Mycroft laughed, pleased with Greg’s indignation. ‘You’re the one who kidnapped me and asked that I let him help with cases.’

‘Yes, and that just makes you even weirder,’ Mycroft teased. ‘You allowed me to bully you.’

‘I did not!’ Greg said and put his beer on the table. He leaned forward and poked Mycroft in the chest. ‘You’re just a stalker.’

‘I most certainly am _not_.’

‘You are! You stalk Sherlock and probably me too.’ Mycroft didn’t say anything and Greg giggled. The alcohol was helping them both relax. ‘You stalk me, Mr Holmes.’

‘I don’t.’

Greg leaned forward more and Mycroft met him carefully.

‘You do.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Do.’

‘Don’t.’

‘ _Do._ ’

‘ _Don’t._ ’

‘DO!’

‘DON’T!’

They were both slightly breathless from shouting. Greg could smell Mycroft’s cologne and it was doing funny things to his stomach. (Greg liked it, even if Sherlock didn’t). Mycroft caught a waft of Greg’s aftershave and it sent little shivers down his arms.

Their eyes were locked together and both could see the sudden need there. They couldn’t look away.

And then Mycroft found himself leaning forward slightly and Greg copied his action. They paused, millimetres from each other, before both pushed forward.

Their lips met softly and Mycroft felt a groan pass through him. Greg’s lips were soft, warm, and pushed against his lightly.

Greg felt himself sigh, like he’d been awaiting this kiss all night. Mycroft’s lips tasted of wine and he wanted to suck the flavour right out. Greg raised a hand and ran it through Mycroft’s hair, while one of Mycroft’s hands cupped his good cheek.

Their lips seemed to fit together and both men were enjoying the soft kissing, the teasing flash of a tongue, the slight clack as teeth knocked together.

And then Mycroft was pulling back quickly, leaping to his feet.

‘What?’ Greg asked, breathless from the kissing. And then suddenly it hit him that he’d been making out with Mycroft Holmes.

_Mycroft Holmes!_

Sherlock Holmes’ _brother!_

And a _man!_

‘I’m sorry,’ Mycroft said and backed away. Greg just remained still. ‘I... I shouldn’t have... I’m sorry.’

‘It’s... okay,’ Greg managed to say.

‘No, it’s not,’ Mycroft said. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening.’

‘Well, neither do I,’ Greg replied.

Mycroft leaned against the wall, trying to calm his heart. ‘I’ve never been attracted to another man, ever. And we were just friends, I didn’t look at you in that way until...’

‘Until?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft sighed. ‘Until you said those things about your wife... what she was saying about us. It made me curious, made me think that perhaps we were behaving in a way that would make others believe we were together. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I’m sexually attracted to you.’

Greg’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

‘The talks, the dinner, all the time together,’ Mycroft continued, ‘it’s the happiest time of my day when I get to see you, Gregory. And when I think about you...’ he swallowed and looked down at his crotch. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well...’ Greg said slowly, running a hand through his hair, ‘I guess you’re not as straight as you thought you were.’

Mycroft frowned at him. ‘But I don’t think about men like that, not at all... I only...’ He gulped and continued, ‘I only think of you like that.’

There was silence then, as both men processed this information. And then Mycroft was backing towards the door.

‘I think you should go, Gregory. We shouldn’t spend any more time together. It’s... it’s too difficult. I have to work out why I feel this way.’

Mycroft was babbling now but Greg wasn’t listening. He was taking note of how he’d felt during the kiss. Because it wasn’t Mycroft’s fault; Greg had leaned into it too.

Greg’s heart beat had increased, his stomach had fluttered, his cock had twitched. He’d _wanted_ to kiss Mycroft... and he’d liked it.

‘Gregory?’

Greg looked up at Mycroft, who was now at the door, holding the handle. ‘Gregory, please, just leave. It’ll... I’m sorry.’

Greg got up slowly and walked towards Mycroft. The taller man kept his eyes locked on Greg as he approached.

When Greg got closer, he pushed himself against Mycroft and kissed him.

Their lips locked together and Mycroft froze, eyes wide. And then Greg bit his bottom lip and Mycroft whimpered slightly. He moved to wrap his arms around Greg. Greg pushed Mycroft against the wall and tilted his head, Mycroft going the opposite way. Their lips melded together and Mycroft’s parted slightly, allowing Greg to slip his tongue into Mycroft’s mouth.

Both men groaned and heat flushed their faces. Mycroft’s hips pushed into Greg’s and their erections pressed together. Greg moved his hands to run his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, pulling him closer. Suddenly Mycroft’s tongue was in Greg’s mouth, exploring, tasting.

They had to break apart for air. Gasping, they both stood staring at each other, their faces bright red. Greg was very aware of his throbbing cock and one look at Mycroft told him the politician was in the same predicament.

‘I don’t understand,’ Mycroft finally managed to say.

‘I’m attracted to you,’ Greg said, ‘and you to me.’

‘Really?’ Mycroft asked, seemingly surprised that Greg felt the same way as him.

‘Yes, you idiot,’ Greg laughed. ‘Why would I kiss you if I wasn’t?’

Mycroft nodded slowly. ‘But neither of us is gay.’

‘Well, maybe we got that part wrong?’ Greg tried. ‘Or maybe we’re just... I dunno, Mycroft. Does it matter? I like you; you’re funny, smart, charming, incredibly dangerous and...’ he looked Mycroft up and down. Now at least he understood why he found Mycroft so dashing in those suits. ‘...and, well, you’re sexy.’

Mycroft smiled at that. ‘You think so?’

‘Oh, yes.’

With a chuckle, Mycroft said, ‘Well... I think you’re... er, very... handsome.’

‘Handsome?’ Greg asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘Um... sexy?’ Mycroft tried.

‘Good answer,’ Greg said. He pushed himself against Mycroft and they were kissing again. Greg dragged Mycroft back to his expensive couch and fell back, dragging Mycroft atop him. A little wriggling and they were comfortable, Mycroft’s erection pressing into Greg’s.

The politician moaned as Greg ran his hands down his chest, slipping them under the shirt. Greg found warm flesh and his stomach faltered a bit as he felt a strong stomach and chest hair.

 _Well, this is different,_ Greg mused.

Mycroft’s hands had found Greg’s face and he cupped it gently, feeling Greg’s stubble rub at his skin. He was used to the soft jaw line of a woman, but Greg’s was strong, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he kissed Mycroft’s face.

 _Very..._ Mycroft thought, _...nice._

He liked it, they both did. There was something so strange yet so familiar about kissing another man.

Greg’s hands found one of Mycroft’s nipples and the man gasped as Greg rubbed it, the nub hardening beneath his touch. Mycroft moved to kiss Greg’s jaw, feeling his bristles scratch at his lips. Greg moaned softly as Mycroft kissed and sucked at his neck before nibbling at an earlobe.

They had to stop for air and both were panting, looking at each other. Their faces were flushed and both could feel the other’s erection straining at their trousers.

Mycroft was still atop Greg and his elbows rested on either side of the DI, his hands by his warm sides. Greg’s were under Mycroft’s shirt, resting against heated skin.

‘I don’t...’ Mycroft began and swallowed. It made Greg want to kiss him again. ‘Um, what do we do now?’

‘I’m not completely sure,’ Greg admitted and ran his fingers lightly across Mycroft’s skin. The man shivered atop him. ‘How about we just keep going and... see where it takes us?’

Mycroft nodded and bent his head down to kiss Greg lightly. Their lips were warm and wet as they kissed softly, both men with their eyes closed.

Greg darted his tongue along Mycroft’s lower lip and the man smiled above him.

‘Very... um, nice,’ Mycroft breathed against Greg.

Greg smiled and did it again, causing Mycroft to shiver. He went further and his tongue darted into Mycroft’s mouth, touching Mycroft’s own and forcing them to both whimper slightly. Their tongues danced around each other, trying to find dominance, and Mycroft won.

His tongue entered Greg’s mouth and Greg pushed his crotch up against Mycroft’s, feeling their erections rub together. It sent pleasure through Greg’s body and he moaned.

Mycroft pushed down, rubbing his hips forward and back. Greg moaned again and Mycroft sighed with bliss as their trapped cocks rubbed against each other. Mycroft reached forward to hold Greg’s face and Greg’s hands continued their search of Mycroft, moving to his back.

Greg stroked Mycroft’s spine and the man shivered again. Mycroft moved one hand to dive up Greg’s shirt, feeling a little thrill spear through his body. Greg’s chest hair was fine beneath his fingers and he felt a well-muscled chest and a nipple.

Greg gasped as Mycroft rubbed at his nipple and nipped at his bottom lip. Greg moaned and threw his head back as Mycroft licked at his jaw, his fingers continuing to stroke Greg’s nipple.

Mycroft’s thrusts were become harder and Greg was pushing up, their cocks straining to touch each other. Mycroft moaned and sucked at Greg’s skin, knowing he’d leave marks but not caring.

Greg’s hands withdrew from Mycroft’s shirt and grabbed at his hips, his fingers digging into Mycroft’s trousers.

Mycroft stopped kissing Greg and their heads bent together, both grunting as they pushed at each other. Greg could feel an orgasm coming and he licked at Mycroft’s jaw, trying to find his lips.

Mycroft was panting, his muscles twitching and his skin boiling. Greg’s lips were suddenly on his again and the pleasure was doubled. They sucked at each other’s faces, tongues darting about and teeth scraping together, as their hips crashed into each other.

And then Greg was coming, groaning into Mycroft’s mouth as the younger man continued to push. He shuddered and bit Mycroft’s bottom lip, knowing he’d leave bruises.

As Greg’s body convulsed, Mycroft’s cock twitched once more and he came. He pushed himself down, hard, and his hands gripped Greg’s shoulders tightly. He felt Greg bite at his lip and a sharp bolt of pain travelled through his skin. It only heightened the arousal that was shooting through his body from his cock.

They were both breathless, eyes closed, foreheads resting together. Mycroft could feel Greg’s skin burning beneath him and knew his face would be just as flushed.

Greg’s lips pushed tentatively at Mycroft’s and they shared another soft kiss until Greg pulled back.

‘What’s wrong?’ Mycroft asked.

‘You’re bleeding,’ Greg said, his tongue dancing across his own lips.

Mycroft pulled back and sat, raising a finger to his lip. He trailed it across his skin and when he looked down saw blood.

‘Shit, I bit you too hard!’ Greg said. He was burning red as he ran off to get some napkins.

Mycroft chuckled as Greg came back and sat beside him, dabbing at the spot just below his bottom lip.

‘Damn it,’ Greg said.

‘That bad?’

‘I’ve left teeth marks.’

Mycroft mused about that. He had been planning to see Sherlock tomorrow but wondered if it would be sane to go see his little brother with teeth marks gouged into his skin.

‘Its fine,’ Mycroft said as Greg continued to dab at his skin. Mycroft caught Greg around the wrists and smiled. ‘Its fine, Gregory.’

Greg was still blushing and Mycroft leaned forward to kiss him. Greg kissed back, his lips soft against Mycroft’s.

‘That was... interesting,’ Greg managed to say when they broke apart. His cock was limp and he felt wet.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said, looking down at his trousers. There was a wet patch on his front. ‘It was.’

‘I... I’d like to do it again,’ Greg said and blushed harder. Mycroft smiled. He was beginning to like that look. ‘You know, if you want to.’

‘I’d enjoy that very much, Gregory,’ Mycroft smiled and kissed him again. ‘But perhaps we should clean up before continuing to bite each other.’

Greg chuckled and allowed Mycroft to pull him up.


	3. A Little Grab

Greg woke up in Mycroft Holmes’ bed. They hadn’t slept together yet... or had they? Greg had no idea if what he and Mycroft had done was considered sex... he'd definitely have to research that.

Greg had his arms around Mycroft and he smiled happily, nuzzling his face into Mycroft’s neck. Mycroft turned and smiled at Greg. His bottom lip was bruised, two thin cuts just beneath it. You could tell someone had bit him if you looked close enough.

‘Sorry,’ Greg said.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘That’s quite all right.’ He leaned forward and they kissed each other softly.

Greg moaned softly and pressed his body against Mycroft’s.

‘Er, Gregory?’

‘Mm?’

‘What do we do?’

‘What do you mean?’

Mycroft pulled back so he could look at Greg. ‘I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I... I like you.’

Greg smiled. ‘I’m glad, ’cause I like you too.’

‘Good,’ Mycroft said. ‘Um... I don’t... how do we...?’

‘Sex?’ Greg asked and Mycroft nodded. ‘Well, I’m not personally familiar with it but, well, you know... we... um, that is two men... crap...’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘I suppose we could just continue and see where it goes?’

‘That sounds good,’ Greg said. ‘We’ll just... try things, together, and see where we end up.’

Mycroft smiled and leaned forward so they could kiss. And then he was pulling back again.

‘What?’

Mycroft sighed. ‘Your wife...’

Greg’s chest fell slightly. Here he was, lying in bed with another man (Mycroft _Bloody_ Holmes) and he had a wife at home.

‘She cheated on me first,’ he mumbled.

‘Two wrongs don’t make a right, love.’

Greg smiled at Mycroft’s sudden pet name. ‘I know that. I guess I have to talk to her.’

Mycroft nodded and kissed Greg’s jaw lightly. Greg squirmed beneath the sheets.

‘I guess not right now,’ he managed to gasp.

Mycroft was suddenly sitting on Greg, his erection pressing through silk pyjamas.

‘Here we are again,’ Greg chuckled.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft smiled and leaned down to kiss him. ‘But I want to try something.’

‘And that would be?’

Quick as lightning, Mycroft had slid down so he was sitting with Greg’s feet pressing into his arse. With nimble fingers he pulled down Greg’s pyjama pants.

‘Shit!’ Greg gasped as he was suddenly half naked. His erection stood tall and Mycroft shifted back up, grabbing it with slim hands.

‘What–’ Greg gasped as Mycroft started stroking him, ‘–what are you doing?’

‘I believe I’m giving you a blow job,’ Mycroft smirked.

‘That would involve your mou– _Jesus!_ ’ he shouted when Mycroft wrapped his lips around his cock. He moaned as Mycroft began sucking, his tongue licking at Greg’s shaft. He took him completely, cupping Greg’s balls as he did.

‘Oh _God!_ ’ Greg moaned, his fingers twisting into the sheets. He bucked up and Mycroft sucked harder, his teeth grazing along Greg’s shaft.

Greg whimpered as Mycroft’s right hand snaked up to rub at his stomach, his thighs, his nipples. Greg’s body began to spasm as an orgasm threatened to overtake.

He was fast becoming undone. Mycroft was very good and moved quickly; sucking, licking, kissing, grazing...

‘M-Mycroft,’ he groaned. ‘I’m... coming!’

And he did, his cock shuddering in Mycroft’s mouth. Mycroft pulled back, gasping and spitting, as come spewed from Greg’s cock. He continued to stroke Greg’s shaft, milking the climax from him.

Greg was panting heavily, his eyes closed. Mycroft slipped off his sudden lover and went to wash his mouth out. He returned to clean Greg up and fell back onto the bed.

Greg pulled his pants up and asked, ‘What the hell was that?’

Mycroft smirked. ‘I didn’t exactly hear you saying stop.’

Greg smiled. ‘I... that was very good.’

‘Yes, I thought you might like it.’

‘You’ve never done that before?’

‘No,’ Mycroft admitted. ‘But while you were sleeping this morning I... um, had a look on the... the internet.’

If Greg were capable of an erection at that moment he would have been hard in seconds. The thought of Mycroft watching porn was seriously hot.

‘Well, you’re a fast learner,’ Greg commented.

‘I aim to please,’ Mycroft smirked.

‘Do... do you want me to?’ Greg asked, gesturing to the bulge in Mycroft’s front.

‘You don’t have to,’ Mycroft said. ‘I... we can try that another time...’

But Greg was already moving. He pulled Mycroft’s pyjama pants down and smiled at the hard on he saw. Mycroft was slightly bigger than him and he lost a second fantasising about being inside Mycroft, or Mycroft being inside him. A day ago Greg wouldn’t have thought about it but now... well, Mycroft certainly had turned him.

He leaned forward and touched Mycroft slightly, enjoying the jerk Mycroft gave. He began stroking softly, marvelling at the hot skin in his hands. It was strange, jerking off another man, but it was quite... _hot_.

Greg wasn’t as bold as Mycroft and he continued to stroke softly for a minute, enjoying the little sounds Mycroft was making.

‘You don’t... have... _to_ ,’ he said and jerked again, his cock sliding through Greg’s fingers. ‘I... I can... _wait._ ’

He jerked up again and Greg leant down to lick his cock, the pre-cum salty and unusual. Greg now knew why Mycroft had pulled away when Greg had come. It wasn’t unpleasant, just... not something either of them were used to tasting.

Greg wrapped his lips around Mycroft’s cock and his eyes went wide. It was... it was hot, and wet, and so very, very sexy. Greg began sucking and it was all Mycroft could do not to buck up wildly.

Saliva coated his cock and Mycroft moaned as Greg’s teeth scraped along his skin. Greg felt a hand in his hair and looked up to see Mycroft looking at him, eyes blown with lust. Spurred on, he sucked harder, taking Mycroft completely.

Mycroft breathed in and out quickly, his body burning. He gripped Greg’s hair tightly and tried to tell himself not to pull too hard. But it was useless; his mind was becoming a blur.

‘Greg!’ he gasped, teeth clenching together. ‘C-c-coming!’

Greg pulled back and jerked Mycroft quickly. Mycroft thrust his hips up and he came spectacularly, shooting his seed all over Greg’s hand and his pants. His hips dropped back heavily and he panted, eyes shut. Greg shifted off the bed, his hand a sticky mess. He went to wash up before grabbing the towel Mycroft had used.

He cleaned Mycroft up but the pants were a lost cause. He pulled them completely clear and threw them in the corner, falling to lay beside Mycroft.

‘You’re very talented,’ Mycroft commented.

‘I know,’ Greg smirked, ‘it’s about time you noticed.’

Mycroft chuckled and wrapped an arm around Greg. Greg snuggled into him, feeling Mycroft’s naked legs beneath his own pant-clad ones.

‘You’re very sexy, Mycroft Holmes,’ Greg said.

‘Yes, well,’ Mycroft mused, ‘I’ve been known to turn a man or two.’

Greg giggled. ‘Well, yeah. I’ve never been attracted to a man before but here I am, giving one a blow job.’

‘A very nice blow job,’ Mycroft commented.

‘I’d hope so.’

Mycroft smiled and leaned down to kiss Greg softly.


	4. Everyone Finds Out

Greg wore the same trousers and jacket to work but borrowed one of Mycroft’s shirts. Mycroft had offered to lend him a suit but they were far too expensive for Greg. And he did _not_ need Sherlock asking why he was wearing one of his brother’s suits.

He received some looks from people who noticed the shabby suit, the one he’d worn the day before. He sighed and fell into his office chair. Another day of paperwork, filling out the reports for the case Sherlock had just solved.

It was midday when Mycroft Holmes appeared and Greg smiled, standing. Mycroft’s lip didn’t look any better but it made Greg feel giddy. _He’d_ made those marks.

‘This is starting to become a habit,’ Greg said after pressing his lips against the taller man’s.

‘Yes, well,’ Mycroft smiled as he kissed him. ‘I thought about that little thing you did with your mouth.’ He kissed him again, licking at the DI’s bottom lip. ‘And, well...’ he trailed off and Greg felt Mycroft’s erection pressing against him.

‘Again?’ Greg asked.

‘Well, it’s entirely up to you,’ Mycroft smiled.

Greg didn’t even stop to think about the consequences. Sucking off the British Government in your office, which happened to be in a police station, really wasn’t a good idea.

But Mycroft was so hard, which made Greg hard, which made him want to suck Mycroft’s cock so that he could taste his hardness. And then, in turn, Mycroft could taste his.

Greg unzipped Mycroft’s expensive trousers and withdrew his cock from silk boxers, dropping to his knees. He leaned forward and licked at Mycroft’s shaft, eliciting a long, drawn out groan.

‘I did this five hours ago,’ Greg reminded him and ran his lips along Mycroft’s cock.

‘Mm,’ Mycroft grunted. ‘But you were very, very good.’

Greg smiled and took Mycroft in his mouth, revelling in the now familiar taste. He was beginning to like this, feeling Mycroft’s hard cock pressed against his tongue. He sucked softly and Mycroft groaned, letting his head fall back.

The door opened and someone gasped. Greg pulled himself away from Mycroft and looked. Though Sally Donovan couldn’t actually _see_ Mycroft’s cock, it was obvious what Greg had been doing. She stared, mouth open, as Mycroft fumbled to zip his erection back up. Greg stood and stepped back from Mycroft, both of them burning red.

‘Uh...’ Sally gaped. ‘Uh... F-Freak’s... here...’

And then Sherlock was pushing past her, followed by John.

‘Lestrade, I want to look at that murder committed at the King’s Head Pub down–’ he cut himself off, looking from Greg to his brother.

Greg was burning red and Mycroft had gone pale. One quick look showed that Greg was sporting a half-hard erection and Mycroft... well, his expensive trousers weren’t very thick.

‘Oh,’ Sherlock said and narrowed his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. ‘I’m sorry, Lestrade, I wasn’t aware that this was a private bedroom.’

‘Sherlock...’ John warned. You didn’t have to be a Holmes to see what the two men had been doing.

‘No, it was my mistake,’ Sherlock drawled, ‘after all, I did _ask_ if you were fucking my brother, but it seems I heard you wrong.’

‘Brother?’ Donovan gasped from the doorway, staring at Mycroft.

Mycroft turned to glare at her and Lestrade said, ‘Out, Sally!’

Sally quickly, and wisely, retreated.

‘Sherlock, it’s not my case,’ Greg said, sighing. He just wanted them all gone... except Mycroft, of course.

‘Well, I suggest you tell me who’s it is,’ Sherlock said. ‘I’m sure Sally is already telling everybody what just happened, but there are so many more people I could tell.’ His eyes locked on his brother.

‘You cannot threaten me, Sherlock.’

‘Oh, really?’ Sherlock said politely. ‘And what would Mummy do if she discovered you were getting blow jobs from DI’s in a police station?’

Mycroft’s eyes glowed dangerously but Sherlock didn’t seem to care.

‘Sherlock, just leave it,’ John said. He liked Greg and didn’t want him to be humiliated like this. ‘It’s none of our business.’

‘He’s my brother, it’s my business!’ Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. ‘Why do you care, Sherlock?’

‘I don’t care!’ Sherlock snarled.

But Mycroft could see it. He’d always been smarter than his brother and though Sherlock didn’t show many emotions, the ones he was sporting now were clear.

‘You’re jealous that Gregory picked me,’ Mycroft said triumphantly. ‘You thought if he were to explore his homosexual side with anyone it would be with you.’

‘I... no... _shut up_!’ Sherlock snapped.

‘What?’ Greg asked, confused. ‘I thought you said Sherlock was asexual.’

‘No, on the contrary,’ Mycroft smiled. ‘It is not often that Sherlock decides to dabble in his physical needs but when he does he always goes for the men...’ his eyes locked on John.

Poor John, who really hadn’t done anything wrong.

Poor John, who turned bright red.

‘Leave him out of this!’ Sherlock snapped.

‘Why should I?’ Mycroft demanded. ‘You have attacked my boyfriend so I’m going to attack yours.’

‘Boyfriend?’ Greg gasped.

Mycroft turned to him. ‘Erm, sorry, I... I didn’t mean–’

‘No,’ Greg said quickly and smiled. ‘I like it.’

‘Like it?’ Sherlock spluttered. ‘You’re married!’

‘Yeah, thanks for that!’ Greg scowled. He turned to John. ‘You and Sherlock?’

‘Yeah...’ John said softly. ‘But now that I know he wants you...’

‘No, I don’t!’ Sherlock shouted. ‘Mycroft!’

Mycroft smiled. He was enjoying humiliating Sherlock but he didn’t want to see his brother and John break up over some stupid misunderstanding. So he said, ‘I didn’t mean that he actually wants Gregory, Dr Watson. I meant that for a time Sherlock thought he was quite handsome and wanted to... make him turn. But fortunately Gregory didn’t notice.’

Greg raised an eyebrow. ‘Sherlock wanted me?’

‘For about three days,’ Mycroft said. ‘But then he realised you weren’t gay.’

‘He’s obviously gay, Mycroft!’ Sherlock snapped, seething. He did not like people knowing his personal feelings.

‘I am not!’ Greg snapped. ‘More like... I dunno, curious.’

‘Curious enough to suck my brother off!’

‘Sherlock!’ John shouted. ‘Enough! So what if Greg’s gay? Or straight? Or bi or whatever? He and Mycroft are consenting adults and if they wanna fuck each other in a goddamn garbage bin it’s none of our business! Now let’s go home right now so we can do some exploring of our own!’

That shut everyone up. Sherlock swallowed, glanced at Greg, glared at his brother, and stormed out with John.

Greg sighed. ‘God.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mycroft said. ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

‘No, it’s not your fault,’ Greg said. ‘I should have locked my bloody door.’ He leaned against his desk. ‘Now everybody’s going to know.’

‘You don’t want them to?’ Mycroft asked, a slight tone of hurt in his voice.

‘No, I don’t care if they think I’m gay or whatever... I just didn’t want them seeing us like that. It’s none of their business.’

‘Well, I don’t think anyone’s going to be bother us after that little shouting match,’ Mycroft said. He went to the door, closed and locked it, and quickly fell to his knees before Greg.

‘Mycroft, no,’ Greg warned, ‘if Sally comes back in–’

Mycroft took Greg’s cock in his mouth and sucked softly, his lips contracting and expanding around Greg. Greg groaned and leaned back, thrusting lightly. Motivated, Mycroft sucked harder and stroked the DI’s thigh with his free hand. Greg’s own hands came down to slowly push Mycroft’s head up and down his cock.

Mycroft let him, liking the feel of Greg taking control of the situation. Greg’s fingers were tight in Mycroft’s hair as he sucked him off, moving up and down the length of Greg’s shaft. Greg began to buck into him and in seconds he came.

Mycroft allowed him too, knowing he couldn’t let Greg stain the floor... or his clothes. So he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked it all down.

It wasn’t that bad now that Mycroft was used to it. He zipped Greg back up and stood.

‘You’re getting better at that,’ Greg commented and leaned against his desk weakly.

Mycroft grinned. ‘I’m a fast learner, remember?’

Greg chuckled. ‘Thank you for that.’

‘No, thank _you_ ,’ Mycroft smirked.

‘I think it’s your turn,’ Greg grinned wickedly.

‘As much as I’d like that, I have a meeting to get to,’ Mycroft said.

But Greg wasn’t listening. Once again he had Mycroft’s cock out and was sucking hard. Mycroft gasped and continued to try and get away for his meeting. But really, if a handsome DI wants to suck you off are you going to try and stop him?

Greg managed to get most of Mycroft’s come down but some dribbled down his chin. Mycroft brushed it off with a silk handkerchief and gave Greg a kiss.

‘I really have to get to that meeting.’

‘Mm hmm,’ Greg mumbled, continuing to kiss Mycroft. Mycroft backed towards the door, Greg following, both of them snogging each other crazily.

‘Got... to... go,’ Mycroft managed as Greg bit at his lower lip. ‘Hey,’ he said and pulled back, raising an eyebrow. ‘Remember what happened the last time you did that?’

Greg smirked and ran a finger along the cuts below Mycroft’s bottom lip. ‘Sorry.’

‘You are not.’

Greg kissed him again, licked at his mouth, and pulled back. ‘Now go.’

Mycroft smoothed his clothes down and exited Greg’s office. 99% of Scotland Yard was staring at him. _Sally Donovan is quick_ , he mused as he glared at anyone he caught, scaring them away.

While he didn’t care about his sudden change in sexuality he didn’t appreciate anybody knowing his private business. He made a note to have anybody who gave Greg a hard time transferred.


	5. "Taking It Slow"

Both men had told themselves they’d take things slowly. Neither had any experience with the same sex (apart from the sudden kissing and blow jobs they were giving each other) and they didn’t want to rush anything.

But both had had a difficult day. After Mycroft left Scotland Yard he’d been in and out of business meetings, had threatened five heads of countries, and had barely stopped a nuclear missile launch from a rogue terrorist cell. Suffice it to say, he was quite exhausted when he got a text message from Gregory Lestrade.

Greg had spent the eight hours after Mycroft’s departure hiding out in his office. The few times he left to get coffee, and later a very late lunch, whispers and looks had followed him everywhere. He distinctly heard the words, ‘blow job’, ‘gay’, and, ‘the Freak’s brother’.

He sighed and fell into his office chair. Suddenly he needed to hear from Mycroft.

After trying, and failing, to call he settled on a text:

 

_Hey, how are you? Me? Shitty day. Want to see you._

_Greg_

 

{oOo}

 

 

In his car, Mycroft smiled and tapped at his BlackBerry before saying to his driver, ‘Scotland Yard, please.’

The car turned and began to head the opposite way.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg’s phone chirped and he looked down at it.

 

**I’m so sorry to hear about your day. I myself am extremely exhausted. I think a late dinner followed by wine is calling.**

**M**

 

Greg smiled and texted back.

 

_Your place?_

_Greg_

**Wonderful. I am already waiting.**

**M**

 

 

Grinning, Greg grabbed his coat. He locked his office door and headed out, ignoring the few people that remained behind. The anticipation of seeing Mycroft far outweighed the humiliation and anger Greg was feeling.

There was a black car waiting with Mycroft Holmes leaning against it. Not caring who saw, Greg rushed forward and kissed Mycroft slowly.

Mycroft grinned and kissed back. When they broke apart he chuckled and said, ‘I missed you too.’

‘Come on,’ Greg said and dragged him into the car.

Once the car had taken off, Greg pulled Mycroft onto his lap.

‘You’re quite demanding,’ Mycroft commented.

‘Oh, so sorry,’ Greg smirked. ‘Would you like to move?’

Mycroft replied by thrusting himself forward. Greg moaned and wiggled beneath him.

‘Ah, ah, ah,’ Mycroft purred and nibbled at his ear. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

Greg grinned. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

Mycroft smiled and kissed his boyfriend (Mycroft didn’t care that Greg was married. To him Greg’s failing marriage was in the past. Greg was _his_ ).

Greg was now thrusting up and Mycroft was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight. Suddenly he pulled himself off Greg, who whined.

‘What? Did I do something wrong?’ he asked.

Mycroft ripped his trousers down and was suddenly bottomless. And then Greg’s pants and underwear were gone too. Greg gasped as Mycroft pulled himself back atop, their erections pressing together.

‘Jesus,’ Greg groaned as Mycroft leaned down to peel off Greg’s shirt.

The buttons were undone and Mycroft kissed at Greg’s chest, his tongue licking across the man’s nipple.

‘M-Mycroft?’

‘Yes, Gregory?’

‘Are... are you ready for this?’

Mycroft smiled and leaned up to kiss him. ‘I can’t wait another second.’

Greg reached up and pulled off Mycroft’s coat, jacket and waistcoat. He undid the silk shirt and ran his hands along Mycroft’s thin chest.

‘God, you’re beautiful!’ Greg moaned.

Mycroft licked his hand and used his saliva to lube Greg up. He stroked softly and Greg gasped, eyes closed.

‘Ready?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded.

Mycroft lifted himself up and moved Greg’s cock to his opening. Greg felt the tip penetrate Mycroft softly and he gasped.

Mycroft moved down slowly and winced as Greg entered him. He sat still, eyes squeezed shut, trying to ignore the pain.

Greg had to stop himself doing anything. Mycroft’s heat and tightness were overpowering, pulling out a kind of pleasure Greg had never felt before.

‘Are you okay?’ Greg asked. He could see the pain on Mycroft’s face.

‘Y-yes,’ Mycroft managed to whimper.

‘We can stop,’ Greg said.

But Mycroft shook his head. Eyes still closed, he began moving, slowly, and Greg groaned. He kept his hands firmly at his side, scratching at the leather seats beneath him. He so badly wanted to grab Mycroft and fuck him hard.

The pain wasn’t the worst thing Mycroft had ever felt but it was still... weird. It hurt, but he was greatly aware that Gregory Lestrade was _inside_ him. They were having sex, something Mycroft had wanted for a while not but had never admitted to until recently.

So he kept moving, hoping that soon the pleasure at having Greg inside him would take over.

Five minutes had passed and neither were close to coming. They were hard but the look on Mycroft’s face was keeping Greg from enjoying it completely. And then Mycroft slid all the way down again and gasped when Greg’s cock slid against his prostate.

Pleasure shot through his body and Mycroft moaned.

‘Are you okay?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft’s eyes flew open and he looked at Greg, who was worried. Mycroft moved completely up again and slid back down. He felt Greg’s cock hit his prostate and the same pleasure shot through him. It was... it was _amazing._

Mycroft moved faster, his hands now on Greg’s shoulders. He groaned as the next four thrusts hit his prostate.

‘Mycroft?’ Greg asked.

‘It’s... _fuck_ ,’ Mycroft moaned and leaned forward to kiss Greg. He captured the older man’s lips and sucked hard, his tongue scraping against Greg’s teeth. ‘M- _more_!’

‘More?’ Greg asked.

‘ _Harder!_ ’

Greg grabbed Mycroft’s hips and began thrusting up. Mycroft gasped and closed his eyes, moaning in pleasure.

‘That’s... so... fucking... _good_!’ Mycroft’s voice was cracked, his face flushed. He couldn’t believe the waves of ecstasy that flowed through his body. This was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Sex had never been this good.

‘Fuck!’ Greg moaned and thrust up again, Mycroft’s tight arse squeezing around him. The heat, the speed, everything was just so bloody good. He couldn’t believe he’d ever had sex a different way.

Mycroft was so close and when Greg grabbed his cock he nearly tipped right over. He managed to hold off for a minute as Greg stroked him. Then he was coming all over Greg’s stomach.

Mycroft’s arse, if possible, tightened around Greg’s cock as he came. Greg moaned and continued thrusting until, a few seconds later, he too came.

He shot his load into Mycroft and groaned loudly. He was covered in sweat and Mycroft’s body was boiling hot on his own. Mycroft quivered atop Greg, panting heavily, his head resting against the window.

Greg looked up and captured Mycroft’s lips, kissing him softly. And then the car stopped and someone cleared their throat.

Mycroft’s eyes flew open. In all the excitement he’d forgotten the driver could hear them.

‘Fuck!’ he said and climbed off Greg, Greg’s cock slipping from him in a sticky mess.

Greg groaned. ‘Everything about our relationship is going to end up embarrassing.’

Mycroft chuckled as he slipped back into his clothes, leaving his jacket and vest off.

‘Let’s get upstairs, clean up, and go to dinner. And later I can do what you just did to me.’

Greg smiled. ‘So it... it didn’t hurt too much?’

‘At first it did,’ Mycroft said as they stepped onto the pavement, both looking very much like two adults who had fucked in a car. ‘But then it got better when you hit my prostate. And believe me; that is very, very enjoyable. There is a very high possibility that you are a sex god, Detective.’

Greg grinned.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

They rushed through dinner and Greg dragged Mycroft back into his car. He pulled himself onto the older Holmes’ lap and snogged him crazily.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft mumbled against his lips.

‘Mm?’

‘The driver.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you here.’

‘Again,’ Mycroft said.

Greg chuckled. He ran his hands through Mycroft’s hair. ‘Do you realise how _not_ weird this is?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I love the way you speak, so...’

‘Shitty?’ Greg tried.

Mycroft laughed. ‘So _Gregory_ ,’ he corrected. ‘And yes, this isn’t weird at all, at least not anymore. I’m happy.’

‘Me too,’ Greg said. ‘I... I really like you, Mycroft.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘And I really like you, love.’

Greg ran his lips along Mycroft’s jaw and the politician shivered beneath him.

‘Maybe we should buy... condoms,’ he murmured. ‘And... lubrication.’

‘You don’t have any?’ Greg asked, pulling back.

Mycroft shook his head and played with the buttons on Greg’s shirt. ‘Not in a while,’ he admitted and blushed.

Greg turned and tapped on the partition. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Yes, Mr Lestrade?’ the driver asked, ever cool and professional.

‘Take us to the closest pharmacy,’ Greg said and Mycroft chuckled beneath him.

‘Yes sir,’ the driver answered and they could tell he was smiling.

‘It’s going to be very hard to keep my hands off you,’ Greg said and folded his arms across his chest.

‘As long as you stay sitting on me I don’t mind,’ Mycroft said and smiled.

Greg laughed.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

They slowed as they reached Mycroft’s flat. Mycroft joined Greg in a beer, smiling in surprise as he sipped it.

‘I quite like it.’

‘You’ve never had beer before?’ Greg asked, incredulous.

‘My father didn’t exactly keep beer in his liquor cabinet, Gregory,’ Mycroft tutted.

Greg grinned. ‘You stole alcohol from your dad?’

‘Of course,’ Mycroft said. ‘I rebelled like any other adolescent.’

Greg snorted. ‘Bloody Mycroft Holmes.’ Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Greg just shrugged, smiling. He leaned up and kissed Mycroft, enjoying the taste of beer on the younger man’s lips. Mycroft hummed and placed his bottle on the kitchen counter.

‘Bedroom?’

Greg nodded and smiled as Mycroft took his hand. He sipped his beer and placed it on Mycroft’s bedside table. He was anxious, nervous, scared, and thrilled all at the same time. He’d seen the look of pain on Mycroft’s face when he had first entered him. But it had been replaced with a look of sheer bliss a few minutes later. Greg wanted to feel that; he wanted to feel Mycroft inside him. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Mycroft sat on his bed and pulled Gregory onto him. They sat kissing for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of lips against lips, tongues fighting for dominance. Once again Mycroft came out the winner and Greg chuckled against him.

He set about slowly removing the man’s shirt, fingering the buttons and touching the skin that was slowly exposed. He liked Mycroft’s skin, its warmth and paleness (with a light dusting of freckles across his shoulders and arms) and the chest hair. It made him shiver and groan for more.

Greg kissed at Mycroft’s chest as the politician fiddled with his buttons, eventually managing to slide Greg’s shirt off. Greg took off Mycroft’s and pressed his chest against his younger lover’s, groaning slightly at the heat.

‘Pants,’ Greg murmured.

He slid off of Mycroft so they could both remove their remaining clothing. Once naked Greg crawled onto the bed and slid onto his back, Mycroft climbing on top of him. He leaned down and kissed Gregory, his hands playing with the man’s skin. He ran delicate fingers over the exposed flesh and smiled when Greg shivered, goose-bumps popping up everywhere Mycroft touched.

Greg reached out for the bag he had placed on the dresser and pulled it open, dropping the condom box and bottle of lube onto the bed.

‘You realise we didn’t do this before,’ Mycroft said as he kissed at Greg’s ear, licking the lobe.

‘We’re idiots,’ Greg grunted, thrusting up into Mycroft. Mycroft smiled as he said, ‘We’ll do it right this time.’

‘As you wish, Detective Inspector Lestrade,’ Mycroft murmured. ‘Please note that I have no sexually transmissible diseases.’

Greg chuckled. ‘You sure are romantic, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’m clean too.’

‘It’s a gift,’ Mycroft breathed against him, ‘my ability to romance straight men into bed with me.’

Greg snorted and managed to pull out a condom. He tore the foil open and said, ‘Shift back.’

Mycroft complied and watched with rapt attention as Greg rolled the condom over his erection. Mycroft took the lube and squirted it over himself, and sighed in content as Greg used his calloused hands to make sure Mycroft was wet enough.

‘Ready?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded and kissed Mycroft slowly before allowing the man to move. Mycroft spread Greg’s legs with warm, wet hands and Greg wrapped them loosely around Mycroft’s waist.

Mycroft looked up at Greg for confirmation and, after receiving a nod from his lover, positioned himself at Greg’s entrance.

He pushed in very slowly, remembering the pain he had felt only hours earlier. Greg gasped and moaned, the pain evident on his face, as Mycroft slowly slid all the way in. He stopped and leaned over to kiss Greg softly.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg shook his head. It wasn’t _that_ painful, just a little uncomfortable. ‘You can... move,’ he whispered.

‘Are you sure?’

Greg nodded.

Mycroft moved slowly, thrusting forward with soft, precise movements. Though he’d never had sex with a man (other than Greg fucking him in his car), the moving wasn’t that different to what he did with a woman, so he felt fairly certain of himself as he was buried in Greg Lestrade’s tightness.

Greg winced and teared-up beneath him, biting his lips to stop from moaning in pain.

‘Gregory?’

‘I’m fine,’ Greg insisted, ‘just... a little... weird.’

Mycroft continued to move slowly, never entering Greg completely, just wanting his lover to get used to it, to get over the pain.

Greg was gripping the sheets tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It was getting easier, better, and he was beginning to enjoy having Mycroft inside him. He felt full and it was getting... good.

Mycroft reached down and started stroking Greg’s cock, making pleasure mix with the pain.

‘Mycroft,’ he moaned, opening his eyes slightly to look at the politician.

‘Alright?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded. ‘Getting better.’

‘I’m glad,’ Mycroft smiled and shifted so he could kiss Greg softly.

‘Move a little faster, a little more,’ Greg said. ‘I think it’ll help.’

Mycroft nodded and dropped Greg so he could place both hands by the man’s sides and control his thrusting. He pulled back a little more and pushed in, harder than before, and Greg gasped. Mycroft grinned at the moans of joy Greg was now making. Finally, the pleasure was outweighing the pain.

‘M-more,’ Greg moaned.

Mycroft complied, his thrusts becoming harder as he sank deeper into Greg. The DI moaned again and moved his hands to grip Mycroft’s thighs, pulling him in.

‘Fuck,’ he mumbled.

‘Good?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded and closed his eyes again. ‘G-good.’ He whimpered as Mycroft sank all the way in, sliding against his prostate. ‘Fuck, Mycroft!’

Mycroft moved more steadily now, faster, his fingers gripping Greg tightly. He groaned as Greg’s tightness pulled at him, squeezed around him, ignored while Greg was in pain but now the only thing Mycroft could think about.

He moved again and thrust faster, reaching up to grab Greg’s wet cock. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbled.

‘Harder, please!’ Greg called and his nails dug into Mycroft’s hips.

‘You sure?’ Mycroft asked, opening his eyes to look at Greg. The man was bright red, sweating, panting heavily.

‘Please, Mycroft,’ the DI begged, ‘harder!’

Mycroft complied and his thrusting became purely instinctual as he fucked his partner, making Greg moan and pull him closer with his legs.

‘Fuck,’ Greg groaned again and opened his eyes to look at Mycroft. ‘I... goddamn it, I love you!’

Mycroft’s thrusts halted as his eyes went wide. Greg loved him?

‘Mycroft?’ Greg questioned, searching his face. ‘I’m... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it.’ He bit his lips, trying not to pant. ‘But... it’s true, I really do love you.’

Mycroft was frozen for another minute before he bent down to kiss Greg roughly, passionately, lips bruising against his lover’s.

‘Mycroft?’

‘I love you too,’ Mycroft said. ‘Damn it, Greg, I fucking love you.’

When had this happened? How had it happened? It didn’t matter, not now. They were there, in that moment, together, and bloody hell they absolutely loved each other.

Greg smiled. ‘Good. Now fuck me, please.’

Mycroft chuckled and kissed Greg again before resuming his pace, slowly building up to the hard thrusts he had before.

Greg was moaning again, his head thrown back and pressed into Mycroft’s pillow. Mycroft stroked Greg in time with each thrust until it became too much. Mycroft dropped Greg and the DI took over, stroking himself in time with Mycroft’s pushes.

‘F-fuck, gonna come!’ Greg moaned.

‘Me... t-too,’ Mycroft managed.

He continued to push into Greg, moving his hands to grab Greg’s hips. He leaned back on his knees and feet and pulled Greg into him, making Greg slide across the bed and bash into his thrusts.

‘Fuck!’ Greg groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, pulling harder at his wet cock. His legs gripped Mycroft tightly as Mycroft thrust in and out, his muscles coiling in his body.

He was coming loudly, suddenly, pushing into Greg harder and harder and harder. Greg whimpered beneath him as his cock finally let go, showering his stomach in sticky come. He moaned and pulled Mycroft closer as his thrusts began to slow, becoming no more than small bumps at Greg’s arse.

Mycroft pulled out and flopped onto his back, moaning softly. His body ached and burned in all the right places, his mind completely wiped. Sex twice in one day? How very adolescent of them.

Greg panted heavily, arms at his sides as he looked up at the ceiling.

After a few minutes Greg composed himself enough to shift down so he could lie beside Mycroft, his body twinging a bit.

‘Are you okay?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg nodded and kissed Mycroft slowly, lovingly. ‘A bit sore, you know, but alright. That was... fantastic.’

‘I’m inclined to agree,’ Mycroft said and turned to wrap an arm around Greg. ‘I meant it, Gregory. I do love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Greg smiled and moved a hand to cup Mycroft’s cheek. ‘I can’t believe it and I don’t know when it happened but I do.’

‘Good, I’m glad,’ Mycroft smiled.

‘This is all a bit unbelievable, isn’t it?’ Greg said and ran a finger along Mycroft’s chest. ‘A few days ago we were just friends.’

‘I think I’ve wanted you for a long time,’ Mycroft admitted, ‘I just never realised.’

Greg grinned and kissed Mycroft again. ‘I’m inclined to agree,’ he giggled.

Mycroft rolled his eyes but smiled as he rested his forehead against Gregory’s.

‘Ready for round three?’ Greg asked an hour later.

‘I’ve awakened a sex fiend,’ Mycroft murmured but quickly stopped when Greg kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Okay, I know it may seem like they’re moving fast (and who’s kidding, they are) but I wanted to focus more on the emotional relationship than the physical one. Sex was just a way for Greg and Mycroft to get over the awkwardness of being with another man for the first time and make them realise that secretly over the past seven months they’ve fallen in love with each other. So yeah, I hope it didn’t seem too fast... even though it is. Contradicting myself, aren’t I? It’s a paradox.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> {IBegToDreamAndDiffer}


	6. I Slept With Mycroft

Gregory Lestrade had never cheated in a relationship. He’d had at least fourteen serious relationships before getting married. And he hadn’t cheated once.

But a week later there he was, waking up in a bed that wasn’t his own, with someone who was definitely _not_ his wife lying next to him.

Mycroft was asleep on his stomach, one arm thrown across Greg. The warm skin made him smile and Greg turned to run a hand along Mycroft’s fingers. Mycroft groaned in content but didn’t wake.

Greg sighed. He knew he shouldn’t have slept with Mycroft... a dozen times... or given him blow jobs, or received them, or kissed him every ten minutes they were together... and... well, you get the idea. Like Mycroft had said; two wrongs don’t make a right. And just because Millie had cheated didn’t give Greg the right to stray.

But he had. He’d had unbelievably good sex with Mycroft in his younger lover’s car, before the two had had dinner and returned for round two. And every night since then they’d taken turns to bring each other to climax. Greg was sore but satisfied; he’d never had sex quite like that before.

He wasn’t sorry that he’d been sleeping with Mycroft. He cared deeply for the man and he knew Mycroft felt the same way. Both were in unfamiliar territory; neither had dated a man before. And their relationship hadn’t exactly started well.

First there was the whole Mycroft kidnapping Lestrade thing. Mycroft, ever interested in his brother’s affairs, had kidnapped the DI the day Greg had met Sherlock. Despite that Greg had found the man oddly charming and extremely interesting.

Then there were the continued kidnappings, usually once a week for the first year, where Greg endured snide comments about his appearance, his smoking, or his marriage. But despite coming across as a giant arsehole Greg had still found something about Mycroft that he liked.

Eventually Mycroft stopped kidnapping Greg and just invited him to lunch or dinner. These turned into meetings that took place three, sometimes four times a week. Soon they were calling each other by their first names, texting each other when they were bored, or just calling to say hi. They spent more and more time together, discussing everything under the sun and sometimes not bringing Sherlock up at all.

And now, well... now they were lovers, boyfriends, partners, a couple. And Greg couldn’t be happier.

Of course there was the embarrassing blow job incident in Greg’s office but they’d got over that quickly. There were rumours flying around Scotland Yard (well, not really rumours because Sally _had_ actually _seen_ Greg giving Mycroft a blow job).

Most people knew Greg was married, to a woman, and that he’d been caught giving a blow job to a high-ranking Government Official. And that said Government Official (who under no circumstances actually occupied a “minor position”) was the Freak’s older brother.

And then there was the whole suddenly being gay thing and the rumours that Greg was really dating Sherlock and that John Watson was with Mycroft (something Greg found highly irritating. There was absolutely no way John was getting his hands on Mycroft. Mycroft was definitely the better looking, and more well adjusted, brother. And he was smarter, funnier, and Greg was pretty sure Mycroft was a sex god).

Greg just tried to ignore it all. But what he couldn’t ignore was the fact that yes, he was married. And yes, what he was doing now was adultery; he was having an affair. And if he wanted a proper relationship with Mycroft (which he very much did), then he had to talk to Millie.

‘Gregory?’

Greg turned to look at Mycroft. ‘Morning. I didn’t realise you were awake.’

‘Yes, you zoned out rather well,’ Mycroft chuckled. He leaned forward and kissed Greg softly. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk right again,’ Greg commented.

Mycroft laughed. ‘I’m a fantastic lover, Gregory.’

‘I won’t argue there.’ He sighed in satisfaction as Mycroft trailed a hand along Greg’s body, just touching everything and committing it all to memory.

‘I’m not sure if it’s creepy or lovely that you’re storing all the information about my sensitive places in that massive brain of yours,’ Greg said.

‘Both,’ Mycroft answered. ‘The answer is both.’

Greg chuckled.

‘Gregory?’

‘Mm?’

‘Millie.’

Greg sighed and buried his face in Mycroft’s chest. ‘I know.’

‘Gregory, I don’t want to force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,’ Mycroft said and ran nimble fingers through Greg’s hair. ‘And as fantastic as this week has been, I want to have a proper relationship with you. I don’t want to be a... what’s the male equivalent of a mistress?’

‘I think mistress will do,’ Greg chuckled.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft scowled.

‘I know, I know,’ Greg said. ‘I want a relationship too, not just an affair.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll go talk to Millie tonight. And then...’ he trailed off and Mycroft looked down at him.

‘And then?’ he questioned.

‘Can I come back here?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft smiled and pulled Greg in for a kiss. ‘I’d like that very much.’

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

It was seven o’clock when he found himself standing before his front door. It was strange, what a week could do. Greg felt uncomfortable here, like he was invading someone else’s world. And it was his bloody home.

He reached up and knocked swiftly, waiting a minute for Millie to answer the door. When she pulled it open her eyes went wide and she shouted, ‘Gregory!’ She ripped the door all the way open and threw her arms around Greg, assaulting him with the smell of perfume and... and woman.

It didn’t make Greg smile like it used to. Millie’s perfume, her general smell, it didn’t... it wasn’t the same... it wasn’t _Mycroft._ Greg craved Mycroft’s expensive cologne and that very Mycroft smell that he associated with his boyfriend; the smell of books and danger and _power._

‘Where have you been?’ Millie demanded.

‘Do we have any beer?’ Greg asked instead of answering.

She nodded and Greg opened the fridge. He grabbed a beer and led Millie into the living room. Greg dropped onto the couch, sipping his drink. Millie sat beside him.

‘Greg, where have you been?’

‘Out,’ Greg answered before sighing. ‘I’ve been at Mycroft’s.’

Millie stiffened but didn’t say anything. Greg sipped his beer and rubbed his eyes.

‘I think we can work out our problems,’ Millie was suddenly saying. ‘We can go to marriage counselling and go on a holiday or something. You can take time off from the Yard and I’ll tell Berner I need a week. We can go to Scotland, or even France. We could–’

She was babbling now and Greg found it extremely annoying. She was just sitting there, spouting on about how they were going to fix their marriage. There was nothing to fix; it was over. If Millie truly knew Greg she’d see how different he was, how he’d been acting strangely since entering the flat.

She’d know he had cheated just like he’d known when she had strayed.

Finally Greg could take it no longer and blurted, ‘I slept with Mycroft.’

Millie froze mid-sentence, her mouth half-open. They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other. Greg had expected shouting. After all, hadn’t Millie suspected this all along?

‘Wh... when?’ Millie asked.

Greg ran a hand through his hair and lit a cigarette. He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth and said, ‘The first night I took off I stayed at Mycroft’s. The second night he offered to let me stay again. We had a bit too much to drink and...’ he paused to take a drag of his cigarette and look at Millie. ‘...and we ended up kissing, Millie. And I liked it, I liked it a lot.’

‘And you had sex?’ Millie asked.

‘Not that night,’ Greg admitted. ‘But the next night...’

‘The next night?’ Millie prompted, tears threatening to leak from her eyes.

Greg ran his tongue over his lips, remembering the night fondly. He also remembered why he’d been driven to Mycroft in the first place. He was there for Greg, Millie wasn’t. She’d been cheating on him for over nine months. Greg couldn’t just ignore that betrayal. He knew Mycroft was right; two wrongs didn’t make a right. But he still wanted to hurt Millie, to make her feel terrible for what she’d done to him.

‘I fucked him in his car,’ Greg said and Millie choked. ‘And then he fucked me in his flat.’

Millie was crying now and a pang of guilt shot through Greg’s gut. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t bloody fair that Millie was allowed to be the victim here. Why did Greg have to be the bad guy? All he’d done was follow his heart.

He sighed and sucked back on his smoke. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘I’m not sorry about sleeping with Mycroft,’ Greg said, ‘but I’m sorry for saying it like that.’

Millie choked back another sob and said, ‘I can’t hate you for doing it, Greg. Mycroft seems like a good guy and I can tell you care about him. This is my fault. I strayed first.’

‘That doesn’t mean I had a right to cheat too,’ Greg said. He sighed and leaned back on the couch. ‘I guess we’re both fucked.’

Millie chuckled softly. She paused before asking, ‘Is there any chance we can work through this, Greg?’

He sighed. ‘You know the answer to that, Millie.’

She nodded. ‘You love Mycroft.’

‘I love Mycroft,’ Greg nodded and sipped his beer.

‘I’m glad he makes you happy,’ Millie said.

‘Yeah, me too.’

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Their discussion went long into the night and Millie cried, a lot. Greg himself came close to tears but stayed strong, not just for himself but for Millie. They hugged and Greg left with a bag of clothes, toiletries, and a few books and DVDs. He caught a cab to Mycroft’s and knocked on the door, head bowed.

The door swung open slowly and there was silence as Greg started at the floor, hands shaking.

‘Gregory?’

Greg dropped his bag and fell into Mycroft, who wrapped his arms around him tightly. He pulled Greg into the flat and shut the door, leaving Greg’s bag on the floor as he steered the DI towards the couch.

‘My marriage is over,’ Greg managed to whimper, clinging to Mycroft’s shirt.

‘I know, love, I know.’

‘I... I...’

‘Shh,’ Mycroft murmured and kissed Greg’s temple. ‘I love you, Gregory. It’ll be okay.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise.’

Greg smiled through his tears and curled up on the couch, burying his face into Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft held him tightly as he broke down.


	7. Having A Boyfriend

Greg woke up in Mycroft’s bed, not sure how he got there. He turned to find a note on Mycroft’s pillow and rubbed sleep from his eyes as he grabbed it.

 

_Gregory,_

_I’m so sorry I won’t be there when you wake up. An urgent matter in Uzbekistan has been brought to my attention and I’m afraid I’ll be stuck in the office all day, possibly longer._

_You cried rather heavily last night and tired yourself out so I put you to sleep in my bed, I hope you don’t mind. Please call if you need anything, Gregory, and don’t be disheartened if I don’t answer as I may be in a meeting. I will make sure to get back to you._

_Feel free to stay at my place for as long as you want, I love having you over. I have made sure there is food in the kitchen so please help yourself._

_I really do love you, Gregory Lestrade._

_Mycroft_

_x_

 

Greg grinned and yawned, reading over Mycroft’s letter again. He wondered if a “matter in Uzbekistan” was anything to worry about but decided Mycroft would call him if there was any real danger. He hoped Mycroft was taking care of himself as he stumbled into the shower.

He used Mycroft’s shampoo, grinning as he thought about Sherlock smelling it on him. The cat was out of the bag now so why not have a little fun?

Greg dressed into one of the suits he’d brought from Millie’s but grabbed one of Mycroft’s pale blue shirts. There was a chance he wasn’t going to see the man today and at least wanted to remain close to him.

Greg found every food imaginable in the massive fridge and walk-in cupboard. He decided on toast and scrambled eggs and had a hell of a time finding the butter and a suitable pan.

He managed to burn his fingers as he dripped eggs onto his plate alongside the four slices of toast. He drizzled tomato sauce all over it and sat in front of Mycroft’s wide-screen television to watch the morning news.

He spent a good hour daydreaming about having breakfast with Mycroft, maybe naked, but knew it would rarely happen. Both men had demanding jobs and the fact that they had spent every night together the last week had been amazing. Greg knew it wouldn’t happen too often in the future so was glad that it had happened at all.

Greg dumped the dirty dishes in the sink, deciding he’d wash them when he got back. Hoping that he beat Mycroft home so the man didn’t realise what a slob he was, Greg grabbed his coat and headed for work.

It was only as he sat on the tube that he realised he’d thought of Mycroft’s flat as “home”.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

‘Nice shirt,’ Sally Donovan commented as he flipped through the files on his desk. They were getting to be a problem; he almost had no room to put down his coffee.

‘Mm,’ Greg murmured as his eyes glanced down the report. There were about a dozen places where he needed to sign and he knew he’d have to read through the whole thing before he did. The thirty other files beneath it would all be the same and Greg’s hand would be aching before noon.

‘Doesn’t look like something you’d usually wear,’ Sally continued, ‘bit expensive and tight on you. The sleeves are longer too.’

Greg looked up at Sally slowly. While Greg wasn’t fat he was definitely wider than Mycroft both in shoulders and waist. So Mycroft’s shirts, while they fit him, were a bit tight around his torso. Mycroft was also three inches taller so the sleeves fell to just above his knuckles, making it clear he wasn’t wearing his own shirt.

‘What are you implying, Sergeant Donovan?’

‘That you’re wearing another man’s shirt,’ she said pointedly.

Greg smiled. Always straight to the point, Sally Donovan. It made her a bit annoying but rather refreshing.

He fell into his office chair and glanced at his wedding ring, realising he was still wearing it. He brought his right fingers to it and twisted the gold metal about slowly before slipping it off.

‘No, it’s not my shirt,’ he said and placed his wedding ring on the desk. No need for it anymore.

Sally watched the gesture carefully before clearing her throat. ‘You alright?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ he said and smiled.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘So you and...?’

‘Mycroft Holmes?’ Greg said and nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Okay,’ Sally said, ‘if you wanna talk I’m here.’

He smiled again. ‘I’m fine but thanks.’ She then dumped another ten files on the already tall pile and he groaned. ‘You hate me.’

‘No I don’t,’ Sally chuckled and left. ‘Have fun.’

He snorted and sipped his coffee before grabbing a pen to start on the reports.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

‘Knock, knock.’

Greg glanced up to see John Watson standing at his office door. He smiled and said, ‘Come in.’ He dropped his pen and yawned, rubbing at his wrist. It was almost two and he hadn’t had a break. Sally had brought him five coffee refills and Greg knew his addiction to the liquid was getting out of hand. What he really needed was a cigarette.

‘Sherlock’s been complaining all day from boredom so I thought I’d come here and save you the annoyance.’

Greg chuckled. ‘Thanks, Dr Watson.’

‘John, please,’ John smiled and sat down in front of Greg’s desk. ‘How are you?’

‘Good, fine,’ Greg said. ‘Getting a divorce.’

John’s eyebrows came together in concern. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Greg said. ‘Bit tired, bit lost, but Mycroft’s a big help.’

John nodded along before saying, ‘I can’t believe you and Mycroft Holmes... he’s just so...’

‘Annoying?’ Greg said and John smiled. ‘Cold? A genius? Sociopathic, dramatic, annoying bloody man?’

‘Yeah, about sums it up,’ John chuckled.

‘He’s not all those things,’ Greg said, ‘he’s sweet and funny and kind and...’ he rubbed his lips, remembering the feel of Mycroft’s against them, of the man coming apart in his mouth, ‘... and good, you know?’ he finished weakly and cleared his throat.

‘Mm, I guess I don’t really know him that well,’ John smiled. ‘All I know is the guy who kidnapped me and occasionally shows up to annoy Sherlock.’

‘I wonder what it is with them,’ Greg said. ‘Why do they seem to hate each other?’

‘I don’t think they do, not really,’ John said and scratched at his arm. ‘They love each other deep down they’re just weird at showing it. I guess it’s how geniuses show their love for one another.’

Greg laughed. ‘Suppose we have to put up with it, eh?’

‘Mm, we must be right idiots dating Holmeses.’

‘Yeah,’ Greg mused. ‘So you and Sherlock, how did that happen?’

John smiled and leaned back in his seat. ‘Alcohol, lots and lots of alcohol. Suddenly Sherlock was declaring he was in love with me, that I was smart and brave and loyal and completely sexy when I wear jeans.’ He chuckled at the memory. ‘What was I to do?’

‘Shag him obviously,’ Greg laughed.

‘Mm, he’s quite good at the shagging.’

‘Must be a Holmes thing,’ Greg said.

John laughed. ‘Yeah, my first time with a bloke in a while.’

‘You... you’d been with a bloke before?’ Greg asked.

‘Yeah, in university and the army. You get bored, you know?’

Greg snorted. ‘First time I’ve ever heard someone use boredom as a reason to shag a bloke. Probably won’t be the last though.’

‘Yeah, well,’ John chuckled. ‘Sherlock had too, long time ago, so it was a bit awkward but really good. Better now.’

Greg smiled. ‘My first time was with Mycroft, his too.’

‘Painful?’

‘A bit,’ Greg admitted. ‘Better now, though.’

John laughed. ‘I’ll bet.’

‘Every day this week,’ Greg said proudly. Considering they were both in their mid-to-late forties it was a pretty big achievement.

John just shook his head and changed the subject. ‘So Sherlock’s bored and I thought I’d swing by and ask if there were any cases or even cold ones that Sherlock could look at. He’s driving me insane and I’m seriously considering killing him. Promise you won’t shoot me?’

‘Oh, I won’t,’ Greg laughed and pulled open his bottom draw. ‘Mycroft would beat me to it.’

‘Probably,’ John chuckled as Greg lifted five files from the massive pile.

‘I’ve got a few here,’ he said and handed them to John. They were cold cases to use on Sherlock’s dark days when London seemed to go insane and there was no crime for the consulting detective to barge into. ‘Hopefully that’ll keep him from killing anyone just for something to do.’

‘Cheers,’ John said and put them under his arm. ‘Thanks, Lestrade.’

‘Please, call me Greg. I’ll walk you out,’ he said and tapped his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and phone. He really needed a packet of smokes.

He accompanied John out of the building and down the street, the two chatting about life with the Holmeses. They agreed to meet up for a pint on the weekend before John jumped in a cab and Greg stepped into a tobacconist.

He pulled the plastic off the packet and shoved it into his pocket before flipping open the packet and sliding out a cigarette. He stuck the filter into his mouth and lit the tip with the new lighter he’d bought.

Greg sucked in a lungful of smoke as he slipped the packet and lighter into his coat pocket, sighing with relief. With all the crap he was going through the man deserved a cigarette.

His phone vibrated and Greg slipped it from his pocket as he took another drag.

 

**Still smoking, Gregory?**

**M**

 

Greg smiled and texted back swiftly, smoke making his eyes water as he held the cigarette between his lips.

 

_Just having one. How do you know?_

_Greg_

**I know everything.**

**M**

 

Greg snorted. He really didn’t doubt that. He also knew that Mycroft had him under surveillance and probably had since their first meeting. He puffed on his smoke and typed back.

 

_Not everything. You don’t know what I’m going to do to you when I next see you._

_Greg_

 

Greg smoked in silence as he waited for Mycroft’s reply, leaning against the wall of New Scotland Yard with the other smokers. He drew some glances, mostly because of the incident the previous week with Mycroft in his office. He just smiled politely as his phone vibrated.

 

**Well I’d love for you to prove that I, in fact, do NOT know everything. I would love for that to happen tonight but currently that seems out of the question. I am truly sorry, Gregory.**

**M**

 

Sighing, Greg tapped back his reply quickly. He badly wanted to see Mycroft but knew the man’s job came first, as did Gregory’s. Their jobs would always come first and while that really did suck, Greg was glad he’d found someone who understood that.

Millie, and all of Greg’s previous partners, had never understood that the job always came first; that the job was important and necessitated sleepless nights and bad coffee equalled with appalling takeaway food. Mycroft understood all that; he suffered from it too.

 

_Yeah, that’s okay, job’s important, right? Just call if you’re not coming back to yours. I’d like to hear from you, however brief._

_Greg_

 

Greg finished his smoke and lit another one immediately, the sudden realisation that he wasn’t going to see Mycroft that day dampening whatever happiness he had been feeling. His phone vibrated and he glared at it. Stupid bloody politics.

 

**I apologise, Gregory, but am glad to see that your vocabulary isn’t as appalling as I thought. I love you and will call when I get a chance. I miss you.**

**M**

 

At least that brought a smile to Greg’s face and he texted back.

 

_Love you too, miss you. Vocabulary, does that turn you on? ;-)_

_Greg_

 

He could almost hear the chuckle that Mycroft was no doubt making, the way his lips would press together afterwards and his eyes would shine.

 

**Hmm, a kink I was not aware of. We really must explore that further. I must go now, I love you.**

**M**

**x**

Greg smiled.

 

_Love you too, kinky boy._

_Greg_

_xx_

 

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned against the wall, smoking and thinking about all the kinky things he’d like to do to Mycroft Holmes.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Long after his shift was supposed to end Greg found himself in a takeaway joint around the corner from Mycroft’s flat. He ordered some curry chicken, Satay prawns, long soup, prawn cutlets and a big helping of fried rice with the intention of pigging out while watching Doctor Who. If Mycroft was going to be a no show he at least wanted to be comfy.

‘Late night with the girlfriend?’ the pretty young girl behind the counter grinned.

Greg hesitated as he handed over his money. He wasn’t used to having to correct people, of having to inform that he had a _boy_ friend, not a _girl_ friend. He also realised he’d have to tell his parents, and his sister, and how the bloody hell was that going to go down?

And then there was the realisation he was no longer wearing a wedding ring so people would assume he wasn’t married. Well, soon he wouldn’t be, he was just waiting for the divorce papers from Millie. God, he had to tell his parents about that too.

‘No, my boyfriend’s working late,’ Greg said and watched the girl’s eyebrows jump in surprise. ‘’Fraid it’s a night in front of the telly alone.’

‘Ah, I know the feeling,’ the girl said and gave Greg his change. She then gave him a genuine smile and Greg was glad that the majority of the world’s population didn’t hate homosexuality. He’d encountered too much of it in his life before even realising he himself liked men. Well, not men, just Mycroft.

‘Cheers,’ he said and sat on one of the wooden chairs to wait for his food.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

He put on series two of Doctor Who, his favourite, and decided to openly leer at David Tennant. He’s always liked the man and now that he was with Mycroft, well, he was allowed to look at other men, wasn’t he? There was nothing wrong with that. It wasn’t like he was ever going to meet him and David Tennant was straight and Greg very much loved Mycroft.

He suddenly realised that going out of his way to know David Tennant’s sexuality probably should have been an indicator of his own. Hmm, it seemed it wasn’t Mycroft that had turned Greg gay after all...

He poured some more rice into the box containing his Satay prawns and lumped a heap into his mouth with the wooden chopsticks. He sipped from his beer and bit into a prawn cutlet before swallowing the lot, enjoying the mixture thoroughly.

His phone started ringing and Greg hoped it wasn’t a homicide. He was thrilled when he saw that the caller ID said _Mycroft Holmes._

Trying to swallow the food in his mouth, Greg answered, ‘Hello?’

‘ _Watching Doctor Who and eating takeaway?_ ’ Mycroft asked. ‘ _Are you leering at David Tennant?_ ’

Greg choked on his rice and had to down half his beer before he could answer. ‘How the bloody hell do you know that?’

Mycroft chuckled at the end of the line. ‘ _You worked late, I can tell, and I know you like Chinese and there’s a place around the corner from my flat. I can hear the Doctor Who theme in the background and am assuming you’re watching the second series as it is your favourite. David Tennant happens to look quite dashing in those tight suits and now that you’re with a man I assumed you took the liberty to gawk at him._ ’

Greg laughed and leaned back to sip his beer. ‘You’re good.’

‘ _So I am right_?’

‘Naturally.’

He could picture Mycroft smiling at that. ‘ _I’m glad, Gregory. And I don’t mind you looking at David Tennant. I’ll just make a note not to introduce the two of you but the man is straight so I guess it would be acceptable._ ’

‘You know David Tennant?’ Greg demanded.

‘ _I know everybody._ ’

Greg frowned. ‘Christopher Eccleston?’

‘ _Yes_.’

‘Richard Hammond?’

‘ _Yes_.’

‘Matt Bellamy?’

‘ _The lead singer of Muse? Yes, I have met him on several occasions. If you ever wish to go to one of their concerts I can get good tickets; free, of course._ ’

Greg’s mouth fell open. Good tickets to _Muse_? He was dating a god. ‘Er, um, how about J.K. Rowling?’

‘ _A charming woman_ ,’ Mycroft answered and Greg laughed. ‘ _She can sign your books if you’d like. Mine are already sighed._ ’

‘You’ve read Harry Potter?’

‘ _Of course I have, everybody has,_ ’ Mycroft huffed. ‘ _And I could hardly go meet the woman without reading her books now could I? It took me a day but I was thoroughly satisfied with the ending._ ’

‘You read the Harry Potter books in a day?’ Greg gaped.

‘ _Yes, much longer than I expected due to work._ ’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said, mouth open. ‘’Course.’ __

‘ _I’m afraid I’ve never seen the movies,_ ’ Mycroft continued.

‘We’re so meeting her,’ Greg said and sucked down the rest of his beer. ‘We’re also having a Harry Potter movie marathon.’ He went to the kitchen to get another beer. ‘And Matt Bellamy and David Tennant and anyone else famous you might have met.’

‘ _The list is quite long, Gregory._ ’

‘Well, I’ll just have to go through your phone and make a list of who to meet, won’t I?’ Greg said. He heard Mycroft chuckle as he opened the fridge. ‘I need more beer.’

‘ _I’ll make sure Annabeth gets some delivered._ ’

‘Annabeth?’

‘ _My assistant_.’

‘Oh,’ Greg said and twisted the bottle cap free, sipping the cool amber liquid. ‘Her name is Annabeth? I thought it was...’ he tried to think back but couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

‘ _Her real name begins with an A and she likes to change it every day or two. Do have fun trying to figure out it out._ ’

‘Oh, I will,’ Greg smirked and made a mental note to pick up a baby names book and go through the A’s. He sat on the couch and pressed enter on the remote to watch the DVD’s special features.

‘ _Gregory?_ ’

‘Yeah, still here,’ Greg said and realised he’d fallen silent.

‘ _I love you, I have to go_.’

‘Love you too,’ Greg smiled. ‘Come back soon and be careful.’

‘ _I will_ ,’ Mycroft said and hung up.

Greg settled back into the couch to watch Doctor Who and finish his dinner, slightly upset that Mycroft wasn’t there with him. Oh well, he’d have to settle for David Tennant.

A few hours later, after turning off the DVD, TV, and shoving the takeaway boxes into the fridge (barely any left but Greg never threw out food), he went into Mycroft’s study to look at his book collection. Sure enough on one of the middle shelves was the entire Harry Potter series.

He grabbed the third one, his favourite, and flipped it open. On the title page were the scrawled words: _To my favourite government official, thank you for all your help. Yours dearly, Joanne Rowling._

Greg chuckled and went to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and flossing to get rid of all the rice. He hopped into Mycroft’s bed and drew the covers around him. They smelled of Mycroft and it made Greg smile.

He laid sideways and flicked through the book, remembering everything that happened as he read. He made a note to ask Mycroft if he knew David Thewlis and Alan Rickman before suddenly he was asleep, the book sitting in his left hand.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

An alarm Greg didn’t remember setting went off and he rolled over to push the snooze button. He laid back and blinked, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes. It took him a few minutes to realise he was lying on something and sat up, turning to look at the mattress.

His battered copy of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ was lying on the silk sheets and Greg frowned, picking it up. He didn’t remember taking it from Millie’s flat and he distinctly recalled looking through Mycroft’s copy before falling asleep. But Mycroft’s book was gone and Greg frowned, sitting up straighter to flick through his book.

On the title page he found slightly fresh blue ink that read: _To Gregory Lestrade, for making one of the most important men in Britain happy. I look forward to meeting you. With regards, Joanna Rowling._

Stuck to the back cover was a note from Mycroft:

 

_Gregory,_

_I hope you don’t mind but I know that the third book is your favourite. We are scheduled to meet with her next week when she is free._

_I love you and hopefully will see you tonight._

_Mycroft_

_P.S. I know the entire Harry Potter cast. I may not have seen the movies but I know everybody_.

_x_

 

Greg teared-up and rubbed the salty water away as he thought of the calls Mycroft would have made just to make this possible. God he really loved that man; that incredible, incredible man.

He grinned and pulled himself from bed to get ready for work, texting Mycroft as he did.

 

_You are, without a doubt, the most generous and gorgeous man I have ever met. And I am going to make you scream._

_Love,_

_Greg_

_xxx_

 

The reply came while he was in the shower and he didn’t read it until he was opening the fridge. On the bottom shelf was a carton of his favourite beer and he grinned.

 

**Not wise to say those words while I am in a meeting. They are appreciated and I hope you like your presents. I will see you tonight.**

**M**

**x**

 

Greg grinned and sipped his coffee as he ate jam covered toast. He pressed ‘new message’ and sent one to A, whose number had been programmed into his phone (probably by Mycroft).

 

_What kind of flowers does Mycroft like?_

_Gregory Lestrade_

 

The reply came a few minutes later.

 

**_Sunflowers. Shall I have a dozen sent to him regards of you?_ **

**_A_ **

 

He smiled and grabbed his keys, texting as he locked the door behind him.

 

_Three dozen._

_Greg_

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

‘Harry Potter?’ Sally Donovan questioned as she joined Greg for a smoke break. He smiled and flipped to the title page to show her the author’s signature.

‘Damn, he’s got some weight,’ Sally commented, assuming it was Mycroft who’d got her to sign it. She blew smoke above her head and looked at Lestrade.

‘Don’t I know it,’ Greg chuckled.

‘So you’re happy with him?’

‘Yup.’

‘And the whole man thing?’

‘Suddenly came on I guess. Mycroft apparently has the ability to turn men.’

Sally laughed. ‘I’m glad, Lestrade.’

‘Me too. Thanks.’

They were interrupted by, as Sally put it, the ‘Freak’ and his puppy. She stamped out her cigarette and stalked away.

‘May I have one, Lestrade?’ Sherlock asked and grabbed his packet before Greg answered.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Greg chuckled. He went back to the paragraph he was reading.

‘Harry Potter? Really?’ Sherlock tutted and lit his cigarette. John watched them, amused. ‘I’d have thought a grown man such as yourself wouldn’t bother with fictitious worlds about magic.’

‘It took fifteen years of planning, hard work, late nights, and a hell of a lot of imagination to write these books,’ Greg said. ‘They are works of genius to be enjoyed by all generations, not just children, and will be loved for years to come.’

‘Did you think of that yourself or read it off the back cover?’ Sherlock asked in a deprecating tone.

Greg smiled. ‘I wouldn’t bother you with such triviality, Sherlock,’ he said. ‘A man such as yourself clearly can’t appreciate, nor understand, the complexity of the Harry Potter world.’

Sherlock glared at him and John giggled. Greg just smiled.

‘I assure you that if I were to bother myself with such nonsense I would easily understand it, probably more than you.’

‘Well, go grab the first book and get reading,’ Greg smiled. ‘Wouldn’t want to be wrong would you?’

Sherlock hesitated before turning swiftly, tapping at his phone to look up the nearest bookstore.

‘Two streets away!’ Greg called and laughed as Sherlock disappeared. ‘He’s really never read Harry Potter?’

‘Apparently not,’ John mused. ‘I’ve read the first two.’

‘The third one’s the best,’ Greg said.

‘How’d you get her to sign it? She must be a busy woman.’

Greg smiled. ‘Mycroft.’

That had John laughing. ‘Right, right. Sometimes I wish my boyfriend had all that power.’

‘It’s very sexy,’ Greg said.

John’s phone vibrated and he whipped it out, chuckling as he read the text.

‘What?’

‘Sherlock wants to know which is the first book,’ John explained. ‘And he’s refusing to ask the people who work there.’

‘Go on then,’ Greg said, ‘and make sure he doesn’t just watch the movies or look the plot up on the internet.’

‘Will do,’ John smiled. ‘He wanted a case but it seems he’ll be busy for a while.’

‘A day at the most if he reads all of them,’ Greg said, ‘Mycroft read them all in a day and I wouldn’t put it past Sherlock to.’

John nodded. ‘Better go make sure he’s not burning down the bookstore.’ He slipped his phone away and waved as he turned.

Greg smiled and went back to enjoying his cigarette and the third Harry Potter book.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Knowing he’d scarfed down most of his Chinese the night before, at the end of his shift Greg found himself back at the takeaway joint.

‘Another night alone?’ the girl asked, the same one from before.

Greg ordered the same food, unsure what Mycroft liked. ‘Hopefully not. He said he should be home but his work’s very demanding.’

‘Hopefully he comes home,’ the girl said and frowned, reading something on the counter.

‘What?’ Greg asked.

‘An order was placed before you got here, to be picked up by a silver-haired man with dark brown eyes by the name of Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade.’ She looked up at him.

‘That’s me,’ he said and smiled, flashing his warrant card.

‘Well, your order is ready,’ the girl said. ‘Same as last night but with spring rolls, prawn chips, Curry chicken and Satay beef as well.’ She smiled and went to get the order, handing the large bag across to Greg when she returned. ‘Paid for by MH, it says. Your boyfriend?’

Greg grinned as he took the bag. ‘The very one. I really do love him.’

‘I would too,’ she chuckled. ‘The note also says he’ll be home by eleven but to eat without him.’ She handed across the note and Greg pocketed it.

‘Thanks,’ he grinned. ‘Have a nice night.’

‘Hopefully as nice as yours,’ she smiled and waved.

‘Can I get your name?’ he asked. ‘For future encounters? I’ll probably be here a lot.’

‘Janey,’ she smiled. ‘And I’m here a lot too. We have delivery, you know.’

‘Better to walk it off,’ Greg smiled. ‘’Night.’

‘’Night, Detective,’ Janey said.

He grinned and headed out.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

He wanted to wait for Mycroft but by ten-thirty he was starving. He popped open the Satay prawns and took a few mouthfuls before adding rice. He shoved a spring roll into his mouth as he watched the first Harry Potter movie, grinning at the baby-faced kids that were now young adults.

He eyed the Satay beef, wondering what it tasted like, and decided Mycroft wouldn’t mind. He took a hesitant bite and grinned at the flavour, pouring a bit into his own container. He added another spring roll and a prawn cutlet before biting into a handful of prawn chips.

‘Look what happens to you when I leave for a day.’

Greg coughed and turned to see Mycroft standing behind him. He looked tired and worn-out but smiled brilliantly. The coffee table was strewn with Chinese containers and beer bottles, as well as a few books and DVDs Greg had grabbed. He realised he’d trashed the place is under three hours.

Greg placed his food on the coffee table and twisted around on his knees to grab Mycroft. He pulled the taller man down for a kiss and slipped his tongue in, moaning at the heat and taste. Mycroft groaned into him and pulled Greg’s head closer, running his fingers through Greg’s spiky grey hair.

‘I missed you,’ Mycroft admitted as he pulled back. He licked his lips. ‘Have you been eating my Satay beef?’

‘In my defence it’s delicious,’ Greg smiled. He kissed Mycroft again and leaned against his chest. ‘I missed you too.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘Sit down for dinner and Harry Potter,’ Greg said.

‘I’m rather tired.’

‘Please?’

Mycroft smiled and finally nodded. He kicked his shoes off and stripped from his jacket and waistcoat, untucking his shirt and removing his tie as he sat next to Greg. Greg undid the top buttons for him as Mycroft grabbed his Satay beef, tutting.

‘It’s almost all gone.’

Greg shut him up by shovelling a mouthful in, smiling as Mycroft chewed and swallowed.

‘Uncalled for, Detective.’

‘Eat,’ Greg grinned and settled against Mycroft, rewinding the DVD so it played from the beginning.

‘Why are they so small?’ Mycroft asked twenty minutes in, frowning at the TV. Clearly he’d seen the pictures in the papers. The three young stars were everywhere now that Harry Potter was drawing to a close.

‘This was made nearly eleven years ago, they were all little kids. They’re in their twenties now.’

‘Ah, I see.’

Greg snorted.

‘Why are you laughing at me?’

‘You’re funny,’ Greg said. He was shut up with a prawn cutlet shoved into his mouth. ‘Uncalled for, Mr Minor Position,’ Greg said once he’d swallowed the chunky prawn.

Mycroft grinned and kissed Greg deeply, his tongue licking at the food on Greg’s lips. ‘You’re amazing, do you know that?’

‘Not as amazing as you.’

Mycroft just shook his head and poured more food into his mouth.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg had planned on making Mycroft watch the entire movie but he could no longer ignore the way Mycroft was touching him. He flicked off the DVD and TV, standing to grab the boxes of leftovers and shove them in the fridge. He knew more would be added the longer he stayed with Mycroft.

Mycroft threw the trash away and allowed Greg to pull him to the bathroom where they both brushed their teeth and prepared for bed.

Greg pushed Mycroft onto the bed and leaned down to kiss him hotly, having missed Mycroft being near him over the past two days. Mycroft moaned into him and watched with lust-blown eyes as Greg shed his clothes, moving back so Mycroft could do the same.

Mycroft’s hand found Greg’s cock and he stroked softly, enjoying the moans Greg was making as their lips pressed together. It grew heated very quickly and there was no time to grab a condom, only lube.

Squeezing the liquid onto his fingers, Greg got himself wet and tossed the bottle over his shoulder.

‘You’ve become an animal in my absence,’ Mycroft noted.

Greg grinned and forced his way into Mycroft, giving his younger boyfriend no warning whatsoever.

He gasped and shivered beneath Greg, reaching up to grab his arms.

‘I’m gonna make you scream, remember?’

Mycroft looked at him, a coy smile playing at his lips. ‘Go on, then.’

Greg didn’t bother warming up, simply thrust straight into Mycroft hard and long. Mycroft gasped loudly beneath him and withered about, gripping Greg’s arms tightly, his nails digging in.

‘Fuck... Greg...’ he moaned and shut his eyes.

Greg leaned down to bite at Mycroft’s nipples, satisfied with the noises Mycroft was making. The _loud_ noises. ‘Is my thrusting satisfactory to your needs, Mr Holmes?’ Greg asked politely.

Mycroft moaned louder, his head back and his teeth biting deeply into his lips. ‘Fuck, yes!’

‘Would you like me to push harder, Mr Holmes?’ Greg asked, nipping at Mycroft’s chest.

‘Please!’

‘I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I don’t quite understand your request,’ Greg said and smirked at the annoyed noise Mycroft made. ‘Was that a yes to my earlier question? _Would_ you like me to fuck you harder?’

‘Please, yes, Greg! Harder!’

‘I shall try my utmost to fuck you in accordance with your demands, sir,’ Greg said and grinned as Mycroft grabbed at his own cock.

‘Fuck,’ the politician moaned and Greg pushed harder, grunting as he jammed himself back into Mycroft over and over again.

Five minutes later, after much grunting from Greg and screams from Mycroft, Mycroft came with a loud shout of, ‘GREG!’

Greg thrust in once more and came, hard, the climax rocking his body. He fell heavily onto Mycroft, earning a _humph_ from his boyfriend.

‘Sorry,’ Greg panted, barely able to move. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Fine,’ Mycroft murmured. ‘It’s... fine... Greg...’

Greg managed to prop himself up slowly and look down at Mycroft. The man was panting heavily, his face flushed, his eyes closed. He’d dented the skin below his bottom lip and Greg grinned. The man looked completely and utterly fucked in a very good way.

Greg rolled off of Mycroft and stared at the ceiling, feeling his partner’s heated body press into his.

‘Best... sex... ever,’ Mycroft murmured.

‘Mm, I gathered,’ Greg chuckled. When Mycroft didn’t answer he turned and grinned; Mycroft had fallen asleep.

Chuckling, Greg managed to pull himself from bed and grab a towel to clean them up. He grabbed the duvet from the guest room and covered them both, snuggling into Mycroft and drifting to sleep.

He decided, just before drifting into unconsciousness, that it was very nice having a boyfriend.

Very, very nice.


	8. This New Life

The couple fell into a routine after that; a routine that usually had one of them getting up at strange hours to run off to work. Greg signed his divorce papers so he and Millie were officially divorced. He moved all of his things into Mycroft’s flat until he could find place of his own. Mycroft told him to take all the time he wanted. Secretly the politician didn’t want Greg to go. He enjoyed having somebody else around the flat; someone to come home to. But he didn’t want to suggest Greg move in. It was too early in the relationship.

Greg himself was feeling more content than he had in a while. Waking up in Mycroft’s expensive bed was fantastic. It was better when the politician was there but he worked hard like Greg; they couldn’t spend every night together.

When they could it was amazing. They’d either go out for dinner or stay in, eating from takeaway containers and watching movies. These dates were usually followed by sex, sometimes rough and hard, sometimes slow and loving. They didn’t get to see each other enough and sex was just another way to connect. That it was bloody fantastic was just a perk.

Greg had never been happier, even when he’d been married to Millie. Mycroft was so different to everybody he’d dated before; he was a man, a very wealthy one, with a dangerous job and flare for dramatics (because no matter what Mycroft Holmes said he was just as dramatic as Sherlock). He was also so posh, so careful and controlling of everything he did. His work, his clothes, the food and alcohol he had; everything had to be just right.

Not that he was too controlling. He made allowances but mostly only for Greg. He allowed magazines to become stacked haphazardly on the coffee table. He didn’t mind when Greg left books or CD’s on every available surface. He grew used to sharing his study with the DI, the two often spending nights going over their own files and smiling whenever they looked at each other.

Soon Greg’s clothes migrated into Mycroft’s wardrobe, his soap and shampoo took up their own spots in the shower. The fridge housed his favourite beer and food, his CD’s and books ended up stacked in Mycroft’s bookcases.

Greg never wanted to leave Mycroft, never wanted to be without him. And Mycroft felt the same.

 

{oOo}

 

Greg checked his phone as he sat at his desk. It was a habit now; checking to see if Mycroft had called or texted. Usually he found a short message from his boyfriend, just little ones like ‘I miss you’ or ‘this meeting is boring’ and even the rare ‘if we were together I’d have you begging’.

But he had no new messages or missed calls from Mycroft and frowned as he tapped out a message to his boyfriend, asking where he was. He hadn’t heard from the man in four days and was beginning to worry. It wasn’t like Mycroft to go this long without contacting Greg in some way.

It wasn’t until three hours later that he got a reply and it wasn’t from Mycroft.

 

_At the hospital, come immediately. Mr Holmes hurt. Calling Sherlock now._

_A_

 

Greg felt his chest tighten and he dropped his coffee, not caring when it spilled across his desk. Mycroft was in hospital? Why? How long? What the fuck had happened?

Greg typed all this quickly and sent it to A as he grabbed his coat and tried to pull it on, suddenly finding that the bloody thing was damn impossible to get onto a human body. He swore loudly as Sally entered his office and his phone chirped.

‘Sir?’ she questioned, glancing at the spilled coffee. Greg ignored her as he checked his phone.

 

_In a stable condition, nothing too serious. He’s asking for you._

_A_

 

Greg finally managed to pull his coat on and said, ‘I have to go to the hospital.’

‘Why?’ Sally asked.

‘Mycroft’s hurt,’ Greg said and scratched at his face. He stood staring into space, imagining all manner of horrible things, until Sally brought him back.

‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Right, er... um, can you...?’ Greg asked and gestured to his desk.

‘Yeah, I’ll clean it, just go,’ Sally said.

‘Thanks,’ Greg mumbled as he stepped past her, texting A to ask what hospital Mycroft was at.

‘No worries,’ Sally said and watched him go.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg had never been so scared in his life. Millie was a bloody manager in a clothing store. Nobody was waving guns at her or declaring war on a regular basis. But Mycroft’s job was... it was as dangerous as Greg’s.

He felt close to a breakdown as he stormed through the hospital, looking around for A. He couldn’t see her and felt his heart beating painfully in his chest.

‘Lestrade!’

Greg turned quickly to see Sherlock. ‘Where is he?’ he demanded.

‘He’s fine, two floors up,’ Sherlock said and steered Greg to the elevators. ‘John’s looking over his medical file.’

‘What happened?’ Greg demanded.

‘Anthea will explain,’ Sherlock said and pressed the button.

‘Anthea?’

‘His assistant.’

‘Right...’ Greg mumbled as the elevator doors opened.

It was a private room and Mycroft was sitting up in bed. Greg stepped in quickly and rushed to Mycroft’s side, looking him over. His right eye and cheek were bruised and there was a large gash across his other cheek; somebody with a ring had hit him. Other than that he seemed fine.

‘What happened?’ Greg demanded.

‘My ideas were taken the wrong way,’ Mycroft said.

‘And they assaulted you?’

‘They were very unhappy,’ Mycroft said. ‘But A got to them before they could hurt me.’

Greg glanced at the young woman, who looked up and smiled briefly before going back to staring at her BlackBerry.

John Watson was standing on the other side of the bed. ‘He really is fine, Greg. Just a few bruises, two cracked ribs, and some cuts. He’ll be fine in a week or so.’

Greg sighed and sagged to sit on the edge of the bed. He picked up one of Mycroft’s hands and kissed it softly. ‘I was so worried.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Mycroft said and leaned up to kiss Greg. He winced slightly against his lips and Greg pushed him back down.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Two days,’ Mycroft said. Greg glared at him and Mycroft wilted.

‘Two... days...’ Greg murmured. A, Sherlock and John wisely decided the couple needed some time alone and backed out of the room. Greg waited until the door had shut behind John before shouting, ‘TWO DAYS AND YOU DIDN’T BLOODY TELL ME?’

‘Well, I didn’t want to worry you,’ Mycroft gulped.

‘TWO DAYS!’ Greg shouted again.

‘Please, Gregory, calm down.’

‘You’ve been here two days and you want me to calm down?’ Greg said. He swore and stood to pace. ‘Fucking hell, Mycroft.’

‘I didn’t want you to worry,’ Mycroft tried again. ‘You were busy.’

‘I don’t care how busy I was!’ Greg snapped. ‘If you’re in hospital you call me! Jesus Christ, Mycroft, we’re in a fucking relationship. You didn’t think it was important to call? Do I mean so little that you wouldn’t even bother fucking telling me you were here?’

Mycroft frowned and looked down. ‘You’re important to me,’ he mumbled.

‘You have a funny way of showing it.’

Greg dropped into one of the plastic chairs beside Mycroft’s bed and sighed heavily. They both sat in silence for a while, Greg glaring at Mycroft and Mycroft staring at his lap.

He twisted the sheets with his long fingers and asked, ‘Do you hate me?’

‘No,’ Greg said shortly. ‘Bloody wanna kill you.’

Mycroft smiled tentatively. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Mm hmm,’ Greg grunted.

‘Please believe me,’ Mycroft said. ‘I just didn’t want you to worry and...’ he swallowed and finally looked up at Greg. ‘I forget that I have someone who cares about me now. I’ve never really had that before.’

‘Haven’t you ever been in a serious relationship?’ Greg asked. ‘Or lived with someone?’

Mycroft shook his head. ‘I’ve had a few relationships but none that have lasted more than a month. People tend to dislike my irregular work hours and the secrecy. You’re the first person who’s stayed longer than a month.’

Greg continued to stare at Mycroft and the younger man held his gaze.

‘I’ll forgive you,’ Greg said slowly, ‘but only because you’re hurt.’ Mycroft smiled as Greg leaned forward in his seat. ‘But if this happens again, Mycroft, I swear to God I’ll put you in hospital myself, got it?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft nodded.

‘Good,’ Greg huffed.

‘May I have a kiss?’ Mycroft asked and Greg couldn’t help but smile.

‘Fine,’ he said and leaned forward to press his lips against his boyfriend’s. ‘But only ’cause you’re sick.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Mycroft was forced to have two weeks off work. He complained until A threatened him with more bodily harm. He spent the remaining days moping about the flat, yelling at the TV and flinging books about. Greg arrived home Friday evening to find Mycroft sulking on the couch.

‘You’re turning into Sherlock,’ he commented as he dropped the groceries he’d been carrying in the kitchen.

Mycroft sat up quickly and winced, rubbing his bruised ribs. ‘I am _not_!’

‘You are so,’ Greg teased. ‘You haven’t shaved in two days.’ He stepped into the living room and moved closer to Mycroft. ‘Erm...’

‘What?’ Mycroft asked, sitting up.

‘I’ve never seen you with stubble,’ Greg said and reached out to touch Mycroft’s face. He felt the red hairs scratch at his fingers. ‘Since when are you ginger?’

Mycroft’s cheeks turned pink and he looked away.

‘What?’

‘I’m a natural red-head,’ Mycroft admitted. ‘Well, reddish-brown.’

Greg glanced up at his dark hair and smiled. ‘You dye your hair?’

‘For work,’ Mycroft said and Greg giggled. ‘What is so funny?’

‘I’m sorry, I just didn’t know,’ Greg said and tried to keep a straight face. ‘Erm, why do you need to dye your hair?’

‘It is more difficult for a red-head to blend into a crowd,’ Mycroft said matter-of-factly. ‘I am ordinary looking, Gregory, and I find that having brown hair helps me to stay in the shadows.’

‘You’re not ordinary,’ Greg said. ‘Sexy, handsome, completely fuckable, but not ordinary.’

Mycroft rolled his eyes and Greg smiled. He leaned forward to kiss Mycroft and ran his lips along his cheek.

‘Mm.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Enjoying your stubble,’ Greg said. ‘I should have guessed you were ginger.’

‘Why?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg pulled back and looked down Mycroft’s body, his eyes resting on the taller man’s crotch. Mycroft tutted.

‘What?’ Greg said.

‘You are vulgar.’

Greg snorted. ‘You never say that when I’m licking at your crotch now do you?’

Mycroft turned pink again and Greg grinned before going back into the kitchen. Mycroft followed him and watched as Greg pulled out an assortment of food.

‘I’m cooking,’ he declared.

‘Why?’

‘We eat too much takeaway,’ Greg said. ‘Time to get some good food into us.’

Mycroft smiled and scratched at his chin, drawing Greg’s eyes. He caught him staring and Greg cleared his throat before looking away. ‘Yes?’

‘Er, nothing,’ Greg said and concentrated on opening the chicken.

Mycroft rounded the counter and stood right behind Greg, pressing his body into the DI. ‘What were you thinking about?’

‘Ch-chicken,’ Greg said and licked his lips. ‘You know... cooking... oil... th-that sort of thing.’

Mycroft smiled and leaned forward to rub his cheek along Greg’s neck. Greg shivered violently and shook his head. ‘I wasn’t aware you liked facial hair so much,’ Mycroft commented.

Greg swallowed. ‘I don’t,’ he mumbled and closed his eyes as Mycroft continued to rub against him. ‘I’ve just never seen you... with... erm...’ He was fast losing his train of thought and all but melted when Mycroft turned him so they could kiss.

Greg cupped Mycroft’s cheeks and moaned as he kissed him, his lips bruising against Mycroft’s. Mycroft gripped Greg’s hips tightly as they pulled them closer together, their bodies heating up quickly.

Mycroft winced and broke the kiss when Greg placed a hand on his chest.

‘Sorry, I’m sorry,’ Greg said and pulled back. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ Mycroft said and smiled. The small flare of pain had disappeared quickly and he tried to pull Greg back in.

‘No,’ Greg said and bit his lip. ‘I want to but your ribs–’

‘Are fine,’ Mycroft insisted and grabbed Greg again. But the DI pulled back and he groaned.

‘It’s your own fault for rubbing yourself all over me,’ Greg said. He turned back to the chicken and tried to calm himself down.

‘You hate me,’ Mycroft said and leaned against the counter.

‘Do not,’ Greg said and looked at Mycroft carefully. ‘You’re not allowed to shave until you’re well enough for me to fuck you, got it?’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Very well.’

‘Good,’ Greg smiled and went to grab a pan.

‘Did you know that Sherlock also dyes his hair?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg turned to smile at him as he poured oil into the pan. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Mm hmm,’ Mycroft smiled and passed him the chicken. ‘His hair is more auburn than red.’

‘Why does he dye his hair?’

‘He said he doesn’t want to look like me.’

‘But you dye yours too.’

Mycroft just shrugged. ‘I might be smarter than my brother, Gregory, but that doesn’t mean I know how his mind works.’

With a small smile, Greg turned the stove on and began cooking the chicken as Mycroft pulled out the ingredients to make a salad.

‘I wonder if John knows,’ he said as he turned the white meat to brown the other side. Suddenly his mobile was pressed into his hands and he looked up to see Mycroft grinning. ‘Please call him, I want to hear his reaction.’

Greg shook his head as he dialled John Watson. ‘You bloody Holmeses,’ he muttered and Mycroft grinned.


	9. The Murray Interrogation

‘Hello?’

‘ _Brother dear,_ ’ Sasha Murray said and Greg groaned. ‘ _Now is that anyway to great your little sister_?’

‘I’m busy, Sash,’ Greg said and stirred his coffee.

‘ _You’re always busy._ ’

‘What do you want?’

‘ _I love you too,_ ’ Sasha said. ‘ _Anyway, its Dougie’s birthday next week and we’re having dinner at Mum and Dad’s. You have to come._ ’

‘Sasha, you know what my work’s like,’ Greg said and sipped his coffee. ‘I can’t guarantee I’ll be free.’

‘ _Come on_ ,’ Sasha groaned. ‘ _Douglas is turning fourteen and he’s a nightmare. But he misses his Uncle Greg. Please come._ ’

Greg sighed and rubbed his eyes. He’d been planning on calling Sasha and maybe meeting up for coffee. He had to tell her he and Millie were divorced. And then there was Mycroft. Greg didn’t want to lie to his family about the man. He loved Mycroft and keeping him a secret wouldn’t be healthy for their relationship.

‘Fine,’ Greg sighed. ‘The fourteenth, right?’

‘ _Yes indeedy_ ,’ Sasha said. ‘ _He’s started playing guitar and could use some new picks. Just pick up a packet and maybe a strap? He’d love that._ ’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Greg said. ‘Time?’

‘ _Six,_ ’ Sasha said. ‘ _Tell Millie I send my love and I look forward to seeing her again._ ’

‘Right,’ Greg said and swallowed. ‘See you then.’

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

‘Dinner?’ Mycroft said that night and Greg nodded over his pasta. ‘With your parents?’

‘And my sister,’ Greg said. ‘Her eldest son, Doug, is turning fourteen and they’re having a family thing at my parent’s house. So her husband will be there as well as their other kids, Angela and Christopher.’

‘I see,’ Mycroft said slowly and placed his wine glass on the table. ‘And you want me to come?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said and swallowed a mouthful of food. ‘I don’t want to hide our relationship, Mycroft, and I have to tell them about the divorce.’

‘Will your parents accept that you’re dating a man?’ Mycroft asked.

Greg sighed and dragged his fork through his food. ‘I honestly don’t know. They’ve never been openly homophobic but they’re from a different generation.’

‘I understand,’ Mycroft said, ‘I fear my mother may react with some distain towards our relationship.’

Greg smiled hesitantly. ‘I want you to come and I’ll tell them. Just not at first, yeah? Let me work up to it.’

‘Of course, Gregory,’ Mycroft said and reached out to take his hand. He kissed it softly and Greg smiled.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg wasn’t feeling so sure of himself as they pulled up at his parent’s house. He’d driven and his fingers were practically glued to the steering wheel. Mycroft took them carefully and said, ‘It’ll be fine, Gregory.’

‘You can’t know that.’

‘True,’ Mycroft said and smiled at him. ‘But whatever happens I will still love you. I don’t care if your parents are against our relationship.’

‘Me either,’ Greg said and squeezed Mycroft’s hand. He reached over to the back seat and grabbed Doug’s present. ‘Well, let’s get this over with.’

Greg took after his father; they had the same dark eyes and grey hair. Sasha and Greg were fraternal twins and barely looked alike. Sasha looked more like her mother; very skinny and short with black hair and blue eyes.

She smiled and hugged Greg, drawing him in to kiss his cheek. ‘You look good.’

‘Thanks,’ Greg said and pulled back to hug his mother and father. ‘Um, this is Mycroft Holmes, a good friend of mine,’ he said and gestured to the tall politician behind him. Mycroft smiled warmly.

His parents frowned and Sasha raised an eyebrow. Greg knew what they were thinking; why on earth was Greg bringing a friend to his nephew’s birthday celebration?

‘Mycroft’s been going through a bit of a rough patch,’ Greg lied, ‘so I thought I’d get him out of his flat.’

‘Right,’ Sasha said slowly and looked between them. There was something funny going on but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘Where’s Millie?’

‘Er, couldn’t make it,’ Greg said quickly. ‘Mycroft, this is my sister Sasha, her husband Andy, her kids Doug, Ange and Chris, and my parents Mary and Pierre.’

Mycroft put on his most charming smile and said, ‘It’s delightful to meet you all and I thank you for allowing me into your home.’

Mary and Pierre exchanged looks before Pierre said, ‘Well, the more the merrier.’

The group went into the living room and Greg handed Doug his present. The teenager’s eyes lit up and he hugged him, saying, ‘Thanks, Uncle Greg.’

‘No worries,’ Greg smiled.

They had pre-dinner drinks as the younger kids went outside to play. Doug disappeared into Greg’s old room to put the new strap on his guitar and use the picks. Greg fell onto the small couch and Mycroft sat beside him, his thigh pressing into Greg’s.

‘How have you been, Gregory?’ Mary asked and sipped her drink.

‘Ah, you know, work,’ Greg said. ‘Keeping busy and all that.’

Mary smiled and looked at Mycroft, who had picked a piece of watermelon from the plate on the table. ‘Careful, Greg’s–’

‘Allergic to watermelon,’ Mycroft cut in and smiled. He nibbled at the watery food and said, ‘Yes, I know.’

He made sure to wipe his lips thoroughly afterwards and wash it all down with his beer. He wouldn’t be kissing Greg in front of his family but he didn’t want to risk an allergic reaction later.

‘Have a strawberry,’ Mycroft said and Greg chuckled. He’d discovered that Greg liked strawberries a few weeks ago; both the artificial and real kind. They’d have fun mixing the two... in the bedroom.

Sasha passed the plate to her twin and said, ‘Ange has a boyfriend.’

‘Really?’ Greg asked and sucked at the red and juicy strawberry he was holding. Mycroft swallowed and concentrated on his bottle of alcohol, making a note to buy some strawberries later.

‘Mm, he has a cat,’ Andy chuckled and leaned back. ‘It likes her so the boy, Thomas, says that’s a clear sign they are meant to be together.’

Greg’s parents laughed and Mary said, ‘She’s only ten.’

‘Ten is the new fifteen,’ Sasha sighed. ‘I hate that kids are growing up so fast. Soon Chris will be getting a girl and ignoring us. Doug already is.’

‘Teenagers,’ Greg shrugged. ‘I thought Ange didn’t like cats?’

‘Apparently Thomas’ cat is the exception,’ Sasha said and he smiled.

‘I don’t like cats,’ Mycroft commented and all eyes found him. ‘They shed too much.’

‘He’s allergic,’ Greg said and Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘We were walking down the street and a cat walked past us, he nearly had a panic attack.’

‘If I come into contact with a feline my throat will close up,’ Mycroft said. ‘Excuse me for being weary of them. Besides, you jumped too.’

‘Not my fault,’ Greg said, ‘cats are killers.’

Mycroft tutted and sipped his drink. The family stared at their little exchange and Sasha narrowed her eyes. There was definitely something going on between this mystery man and Greg.

‘What is it you do for a living, Mr Holmes?’ Pierre asked.

‘Please call me Mycroft,’ the politician smiled. ‘I occupy a minor position in the British Government.’

Mary raised her eyebrows and Andy asked, ‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘Mostly paper work and meetings to ensure that certain events run smoothly,’ Mycroft said. ‘Boring politics.’

Greg grinned. He could imagine the paperwork Mycroft had; mostly likely every page was stamped ‘Top Secret’ and they’d have you killed if you laid eyes on it.

‘Are you married, Mycroft?’ Mary asked and Greg nearly groaned. His family always had to know everything.

‘No, I’m not,’ Mycroft said.

‘Oh, girlfriend then?’ Sasha asked.

Mycroft smiled before saying, ‘Actually, I’m gay.’ Not entirely true but now Mycroft only had eyes for Greg.

There was silence after that and Greg kept his eyes on his parents. They both seemed startled but didn’t say anything. Greg didn’t know if they were actually okay with it or if they were just being polite.

‘Erm...’ Greg said, unsure how to change the subject.

‘Remember Dean, Greg?’ Sasha asked. ‘He was gay.’

Greg sighed and Mycroft asked, ‘The boy who had a crush on you when you were seventeen?’

‘Yeah, him,’ Greg said.

‘He was so adorable; he followed Greg everywhere,’ Sasha grinned.

‘I remember you telling me that Dean became quite upset when he learned you’d already dabbled in... certain things with girls,’ Mycroft said. ‘You were fifteen when that happened if I remember correctly.’

‘Yeah,’ Greg blushed. He really didn’t want to talk about his sexual experiences in front of his parents.

‘I always hoped they’d get together,’ Sasha said. ‘They would have made such a cute couple.’

‘Sasha, don’t be ridiculous,’ Mary tutted. ‘Gregory is a normal man.’

‘As opposed to being gay which is abnormal?’ Mycroft asked and all eyes were on him once more. While he was willing to pretend to just be Greg’s friend he wouldn’t just sit there and allow them to berate his sexuality.

‘That’s... not what I meant...’ Mary managed.

‘That’s a lovely picture,’ Mycroft said smoothly and nodded at the fire place. The group turned to look at it. It was a photo of a younger Mary and Pierre with the twin ten-year-olds. ‘If I’m not mistaken Gregory has that photo in his wallet.’

‘Yes, it was taken at the beach,’ Mary said and smiled warmly at the memory. ‘Gregory has always hated the beach but Sasha loves it.’

‘Beautiful,’ Sasha grinned. ‘Sand, water, sun, what’s not to like?’

‘Sand, water, sun,’ Greg grunted. ‘The sand gets everywhere, the sun burns you no matter how much bloody sun block you use and there’s the simple fact of great bloody man-eaters swimming about in the goddamn ocean.’

Mycroft chuckled and said, ‘I agree with you, Gregory. While a sunset over the beach is beautiful I don’t particularly care for it. The sand does tend to follow you for days afterwards.’

They fell into silence, eating crackers and cheese and sipping drinks. Angela and Christopher could be heard chasing each other outside and the soft sounds of a guitar were coming from Greg’s old room.

‘So, I met David Tennant,’ Greg said suddenly and Sasha jumped up.

‘No way!’

Greg grinned. ‘Yep. Had lunch with him.’

‘What... how?’ his twin demanded.

‘We sat at a table and ate together,’ Greg smirked.

Sasha rolled her eyes. ‘Why would he sit and have lunch with you?’

‘Mycroft knows him,’ Greg said and smiled at his boyfriend. ‘He introduced us and set up a lunch.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘It was nothing.’

Sasha continued to stare opened-mouthed as Greg helped himself to more strawberries. Pierre and Mary went to get more drinks and Sasha didn’t speak again until they were seated.

‘What’s Millie doing?’ she asked. ‘It’s a shame she couldn’t be here.’

‘Erm...’ Greg mumbled and looked down at his beer. ‘You know, work.’

‘She’s a manager,’ Sasha said. ‘Surly she could get away for a few hours.’

‘Well, you know,’ Greg said and sipped his beer. His fingers began twisting at his wedding finger, at the white strip that showed he’d once worn a ring. It drew his sister’s attention and her eyes went wide.

‘Where’s your wedding ring, Greg?’ she asked.

He now had his family’s full attention and he glanced at Mycroft before talking. ‘Millie and I are divorced.’

There were sharp intakes of air, wide-eyes, slight mouth openings.

‘Gregory, when did this happen?’ Mary asked.

‘Erm, about five months ago,’ Greg admitted.

‘Five _months_?’ Pierre asked. ‘Why did you wait so long to tell us?’

‘Well, a lot of things have been happening,’ Greg muttered. ‘I had to move out and find a new place–’ another quick glance at Mycroft, ‘–get used to not being married, tell other people, you know. I just focused on work and... stuff.’

‘So you’re smoking again?’ Mary asked.

Greg shrugged guiltily and Mycroft said, ‘I’m trying to get him to quit.’ Mary looked at him sharply.

‘Mycroft’s helped a lot,’ Greg said.

It was Sasha who noticed the way they were sitting, leaning towards each other, the way they’d been looking at each other the past hour. A sly grin crept up her face.

‘Sasha?’ Greg asked, knowing her look wasn’t good. His twin was far too evil for his liking.

‘How exactly has Mycroft been helping?’ she asked.

Greg cleared his throat. ‘Erm, he’s let me crash at his place, talked to me about it, you know; friend stuff.’

‘Mm hmm,’ Sasha said and her smile only grew more wicked. ‘How long have you been at his place?’

She had always had a slight suspicion that her older brother liked boys, going back to his Doctor Who fandom that had started when he was a kid and continued to develop into adulthood. She’d always voiced her thoughts to her brother, who’d very hotly denied anything. It did nothing to help his argument though and only strengthened hers.

‘Ah, five months,’ Greg coughed.

‘So you borrow his cologne then?’

Greg jumped. ‘Wh-what?’

‘Well, you’re wearing the same cologne, I smelt it when you came in.’ Her grin was becoming decidedly more evil now.

‘Yeah, sometimes,’ Greg said and could feel his face turning red. Mycroft was smiling beside him. ‘You know, when one of us runs out.’

‘Ah, but you’re both wearing two colognes, why is that?’ Sasha asked, sounding very much like a nosey reporter.

Her husband had caught on and was chuckling slightly. Mary and Pierre were completely oblivious.

‘Gregory, what is she talking about?’ Mary asked. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘No idea,’ Greg said hotly and reached forward for his beer. He downed half of it and wiped his lips.

Sasha noticed that Mycroft’s eyes followed Greg’s hands to his lips and stayed there. He swallowed slightly before turning away.

‘Why are you staring at my brother, Mycroft?’

Mycroft was used to going up against heads of countries and felt that Sasha’s interrogation was very much the same. So he smiled coolly and said, ‘I stare at a lot of people, Mrs Murray. Your brother happens to be one of them.’

Sasha was a bit thrown by his polite yet threatening tone as well as his admission to actually staring at Greg. But soon she was coming back with full force.

‘My brother’s wearing a very expensive shirt, Mr Holmes, one that has clearly been tailored for a taller man. You are taller and seem to enjoy expensive materials, unlike Greg.’

Sasha was quite perceptive, he noted. ‘Yes, it seems Gregory is wearing one of my shirts,’ Mycroft replied pleasantly. ‘It would appear he took one of mine by accident. A simple thing amongst friends, I assure you, especially living in such close quarters.’

Sasha was glaring now. ‘And why is it that you always call my brother Gregory?’

‘I prefer to use one’s full name, nicknames can be so uncivilised,’ Mycroft said coldly.

Sasha was losing and she knew it. The entire family was watching the fight with wide eyes, only Greg and Andy knowing what it was about.

‘Why is it that you went out of your way to introduce Greg to David Tennant?’

‘The actor is an acquaintance of mine and I knew Gregory was a fan. What is a small phone call between friends?’

‘How come you know he’s allergic to watermelon?’

‘We have been friends for six years, it came up at some point during that time.’

‘Why do you know that Greg had his first shag at fifteen?’

‘Sasha!’ Mary interjected.

‘It came up among certain topics at a bar one night,’ Mycroft said smoothly.

Sasha doubted the man had ever been in a pub and pressed her lips together, looking for more ammunition.

‘How come you know that Greg carries around a picture of all of us in his wallet?’

‘He’s left his wallet open on the kitchen counter in my flat, I have seen it countless times.’

‘How do you know he likes strawberries?’

‘We had ice cream four weeks ago and he confessed it was his favourite flavour over chocolate. He enjoys both the real and artificial kind.’

‘Why do you remember that?’

‘Eidetic memory.’

‘His aversion to cats?’

‘Mauled by the neighbour’s cat when he was twelve, another anecdote he told at the pub amongst friends.’

‘Mm hmm,’ Sasha murmured. ‘How about the fact that a boy named Dean had a crush on him when they were seventeen?’

‘Another anecdote, Mrs Murray.’

‘Why are you sitting so close to my brother?’

‘This couch is rather small.’

‘And that means your thighs must be pressed together?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘Do you think Greg looks good in that shirt?’

 _Ask about Gregory’s look, make Mycroft think about his looks_ , Sasha thought.

‘Probably much better than me but you would have to ask someone else.’

‘Don’t you think his hair is sexy?’

‘The greying of one man’s hair does not interest me,’ Mycroft said but was growing slightly hotter under the collar. Sasha had him now; she had to ask about Gregory’s appearance and make Mycroft’s physical attraction to her brother obvious.

‘You’re gay, Mycroft, surely you can appreciate Greg’s features.’

Mycroft swallowed. ‘Gregory is a friend. I... I don’t look at him like... like that.’

‘Like what?’ Sasha prompted.

Mycroft couldn’t help himself and he looked at Greg. ‘I don’t look at him in a... a sexual manner.’

‘Do you know that he uses strawberry-scented shampoo?’

‘I am aware, I do have a sense of smell,’ Mycroft said and swallowed hard; he could smell it right now. Greg could tell he was losing it.

‘Isn’t his cologne lovely?’

‘I’m sure to the right people,’ Mycroft said, biting his lip, ‘it would be most wonderful.’

 _Trip him up, now_ , Sasha thought. _Ask a completely different question._

‘Care to tell us why you’re so worried about my twin’s smoking?’

‘As a friend I care for Gregory’s health,’ Mycroft said, ‘and he continues to smoke in the bedroom.’

Sasha jumped to her feet triumphantly at the same time that Mycroft realised his mistake. His eyes went wide and he flushed visibly. How could he have been so stupid?

‘ _The_ bedroom?’ Sasha demanded. ‘Why on earth would you care that Greg was smoking in his bedroom? Ah, but you didn’t say _his_ bedroom did you? You said _the_ bedroom, as in _one_ bedroom, as in the bedroom that you two _share_!’

She placed her hands on her hips and grinned widely.

Mycroft was speechless, actually speechless. Sasha had won and there was nothing he could do. Suddenly he wanted a cigarette. Sasha would make a very good politician and he considered hiring her right then and there.

‘Gregory?’ Mary questioned.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Pierre asked his daughter.

Sasha folded her arms and smirked in celebration. ‘Care to tell the class?’ she asked.

Greg groaned and rubbed his eyes. _The_ Mycroft Holmes, who could kidnap people in broad daylight and cover up messes even the Queen herself didn’t know about, had fallen victim to his sister’s endless barrage of questioning. It was only natural; his twin was quite sharp and persistent.

‘Gregory?’ his mother repeated. ‘What does she mean?’

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at Mycroft, who looked deeply apologetic and red. ‘It’s alright,’ he said, ‘had to tell them sooner or later.’

‘Tell us what?’ Pierre asked.

He reached over and grabbed Mycroft’s right hand with his left, weaving their fingers together and squeezing gently. It was a very personal gesture and wasn’t missed by anyone. With another sigh, Greg explained quickly.

‘Mycroft and I have been dating for over five months. It’s one of the reasons, but not the only reason, that Millie and I split up. We had been having a lot of problems and she’d been cheating on me for nine months. One night we fought and I went to Mycroft for comfort. We slept together, I cheated on Millie, and we got divorced. I have been in a homosexual relationship since then with Mycroft and we sort of live together.’

He stopped and took a deep breath, looking at his family. Mycroft was pale, Sasha was grinning, Andy looked blank, and his parents were absolutely gobsmacked.

‘What... you... huh?’ his mother managed.

‘You... and this man?’ Pierre asked. ‘Are... are _sleeping_ together? As in sexual intercourse?’

‘Yes,’ Greg said. He wouldn’t be ashamed of what he was doing, there was nothing wrong with it.

‘Why?’ Mary demanded.

‘I love him,’ Greg said.

‘And I love him,’ Mycroft said and squeezed Greg’s hand.

‘But... he’s a _man_ ,’ Mary said.

Greg sighed; he was afraid of this. His parents had never shown any distinct homophobia but they were from a different age; a generation that frowned on homosexuality because it was thought wrong.

‘I am aware of that,’ Greg said coolly. ‘But there is nothing wrong with one man dating another man, or two men having sex with one another.’

‘Then why were you hiding it?’ his father demanded.

‘Because I knew you would react this way,’ Greg said. ‘I planned on telling you, even without Sasha’s interrogation.’ He glared at his sister, who shrugged.

‘But it’s not right, Gregory,’ Mary finally said. ‘The Bible clearly states that a man and woman must lay together, not two men or any other variation.’

‘The Bible is _wrong_ ,’ Greg said, ‘and I won’t have a two-thousand-year-old book telling me that what I’m doing with my life is wrong.’

‘But it is,’ Mary insisted.

‘It’s not natural,’ his father added.

Greg glared at them. ‘And you wonder why I didn’t want to tell you?’ he snarled. ‘I love Mycroft and the fact that he’s a man isn’t going to change that. In fact, it just makes me love him even more, because he’s fantastic and the sex is fantastic.’

Mary whimpered and Pierre’s eyes went wide. Greg stood suddenly, dragging Mycroft up.

‘I think we should leave.’

‘No, Gregory, don’t,’ his mother said.

‘If you’re against my relationship with Mycroft than I won’t be under your roof,’ Greg said. ‘I will not have the two people I care about most in the world berate me or him for being gay. So mother, father, it has been a pleasure, but we’re leaving.’ He nodded at Sasha and Andy, saying, ‘Tell the kids goodbye and say happy birthday to Doug for me,’ before pulling Mycroft from the house.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mycroft said as Greg slammed the door behind them.

‘Not your fault,’ Greg growled angrily.

Sasha followed them to Mycroft’s car and said, ‘Greg, I’m sorry.’

‘Why did you do that?’ Greg asked, whirling on his sister.

‘You were never going to tell them,’ Sasha said, ‘I didn’t want you to have to lie; it would have killed you.’

‘And having them kick me out of the house we grew up in was _better_?’ Greg demanded, folding his arms defensively.

‘They didn’t kick you out,’ Sasha tried.

‘Saying my relationship with Mycroft is _wrong_ and _unnatural_ is as good as kicking me out!’ Greg fumed.

Sasha sighed and reached for her brother, who pulled back. ‘Greg, I’m sorry. But it really is great, you and him, I can tell you’re happy.’

‘I am,’ he said shortly.

‘Good. Look, Mum and Dad will come around, alright? Just watch.’

‘Whatever,’ he grunted.

‘Gregory, please.’

Still frowning, he leaned forward and hugged her briefly. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He climbed into the passenger side of his car and slammed the door, pulling on his seat belt viciously.

Sasha looked at Mycroft. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Quite alright, I’m sure this will settle eventually.’ He pursed his lips before saying, ‘A very good interrogation, Mrs Murray. I have survived torturous meetings with terrorist leaders and yet it was you who made me slip.’

Sasha’s eyes went wide at that and she managed a broken, ‘Ah... th-thank you?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘If you ever have an interest in going into politics, call me,’ he said and pressed one of his business cars into her hand. She looked down at it. There was just a name, some numbers and an email address; no title, no hint at what he did.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you,’ Mycroft said. He nodded curtly before rounding the car and climbing in. He shut the door, less-forcefully than Greg, pulled on his seat belt and slipped the key Greg had passed him into the ignition. Soon Greg’s parents’ house was in the distance.

‘It’s okay to be angry,’ Mycroft said.

‘Good.’

‘I do love you, Gregory.’

‘Love you too.’

‘Indian?’

‘Starving.’

Mycroft smiled and hoped to high heaven Gregory’s parents would come around.


	10. Mummy Holmes

Strangely enough, it was Mrs Holmes who brought Greg’s parents around. It had been two months since the argument and Greg had been ignoring each and every call from his family. Mycroft tried to talk to him about it but Greg was adamant that he speak to them again unless they apologised and accepted his and Mycroft’s relationship.

‘How can they apologise if you don’t talk to them?’ Mycroft asked as they stepped out of the lift. They’d spent the entire evening together at Greg’s favourite restaurant and both were looking forward to sex.

‘I didn’t ask for your input,’ Greg huffed which was what he usually said when he was wrong.

Mycroft smiled and slipped his key into the door.

‘Sherlock,’ Mycroft groaned as he looked at the tall woman that stood in the living room.

‘Don’t blame Sherlock, he just lent me his lock picking set,’ the woman said.

‘You do realise it is against the law to break and enter,’ Mycroft huffed.

‘Are you pressing charges?’ she asked.

Mycroft frowned at her before saying, ‘No.’

Greg stood beside Mycroft staring at the woman. She was tall, probably about the same height as Greg. Her hair was dark red, like rust, and her eyes were sharp and grey-blue.

She smiled at him and said, ‘You aren’t going to introduce us, Mycroft?’

With a small growl, Mycroft said, ‘This is Gregory Lestrade my boyfriend. Gregory, this is my mother, Temperance Holmes.’

Temperance smiled and stepped forward to shake the DI’s hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Gregory.’

‘Ah, yeah. Likewise.’ It was then that Greg noticed the two people sitting on the couch. ‘Mum? Dad?’

Mycroft looked at them too as his mother said, ‘I invited Mr and Mrs Lestrade over for coffee, I hope that is alright.’

‘No, of course it’s alright,’ Mycroft fumed. ‘Why wouldn’t breaking into my flat at ten o’clock at night to serve coffee be alright?’

Temperance tutted and said, ‘I broke in at eight o’clock, Mycroft.’

‘That isn’t any better!’ Mycroft practically shouted.

‘Really, Mycroft,’ his mother scolded. ‘You and Sherlock are so prone to theatrics.’

Mycroft cursed and went into the kitchen to grab one of Greg’s beers. He downed the entire thing and glared at his mother.

‘I invited the Lestrades over to settle this petty argument they and their son are having,’ Temperance said and smiled at Greg.

‘How do you even know?’ Mycroft demanded.

‘I have my ways,’ Temperance smiled and Greg suddenly knew where Mycroft got all his charm from. It was a shame Sherlock hadn’t got any of it. No, scratch that. A very charming Sherlock Holmes would be a disaster. ‘Now, let’s all sit in the living room like adults and discuss this.’

She held an arm out and Greg sighed. He went to fall onto the arm chair opposite his parents. Mycroft followed him and, scowling at his mother, handed Greg a beer and sat on the arm of his chair.

‘Now that’s better,’ Temperance said and sat in the last available seat. ‘It seems that we should discuss just how you two got together,’ she said and looked the couple over. ‘I wasn’t aware that my son was gay.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Mycroft grunted. ‘At least I don’t think I was until... until I met Gregory.’

‘Oh, how sweet,’ Temperance said. Mary and Pierre glared at her. ‘Come now, you can’t honestly be against this,’ she said to the Lestrades. ‘Look how happy they are.’

‘It’s just... it’s not natural,’ Mary said and Greg sighed.

‘The Bible,’ his father mumbled.

‘See, this isn’t going to work!’ Greg shouted and stood, almost knocking Mycroft from his perch.

‘Calm down, Gregory,’ Temperance chided. ‘Really, you have been spending far too much time around Sherlock.’

Greg frowned but fell back into his seat. Mycroft wrapped an arm around him and Mary followed the movement, frowning.

‘Mum, I love Mycroft,’ Greg said and tried to keep his voice level. ‘You being against this isn’t going to change that, alright?’

‘How did this happen?’ Pierre demanded.

Greg sighed and sipped his beer before rubbing his eyes. ‘Mycroft and I have known each other almost six years. We were acquaintances before becoming friends. Really we became best friends. And then my marriage started going to hell and I found out Millie was cheating on me.’

He took a pause to sip his beer. Mycroft squeezed his shoulder softly and Temperance smiled at him warmly. His parents stared.

‘We started fighting all the time and it was Mycroft I complained to. He was the only one willing to listen. One night Millie and I had a fight. She thought I was cheating on her with Mycroft.’

‘Were you?’ Mary asked.

‘No... at least not yet,’ Greg said and his mother scowled. ‘I went for a walk and Mycroft found me. He let me stay here. The next night we... we had some drinks and...’ he bit his lip, remembering his and Mycroft’s bodies rutting against each other. ‘It was a surprise to me, really, to both of us. We didn’t realise we were attracted to each other until that night. And then, well... then I had an affair.’

He finished his beer and put the bottle on the coffee table.

‘I never meant to hurt Millie or cheat on her. But I just needed somebody and Mycroft was... I loved him, even then. I stayed here about a week before Mycroft reminded me that I was doing the wrong thing. He told me to go speak to Millie and I did. We agreed on a divorce and I came back here. I’ve been here ever since and I don’t plan on going anywhere. I love Mycroft and I’ll stay with him as long as he wants me.’

Greg finished and leaned back into the seat and Mycroft’s arm. His boyfriend’s warmth was comforting and helping him keep a level head. He so badly wanted his parents to accept the relationship.

Mary and Pierre continued to stare at their son like he was an alien. Temperance frowned at them. Finally it was Mycroft who spoke up.

‘Mr and Mrs Lestrade, I understand that you don’t like this. You’re from a generation that frowned on homosexuality. But I love your son and I would do anything for him. There is nobody in this world I love more than him. Does it really matter that we’re both men? Surly something that makes us both this happy cannot be bad. And it’s not just us. My brother and I have never been as close as we are now; Gregory has helped bridge the gap between us.

‘And he’s helped me in many ways too. I sleep better with him here and I eat better. My work doesn’t consume me as much. I actually have somebody to come home to; somebody who smiles at me and asks how my day was. I have never been as happy as I am now and it’s simply killing me that you dislike our relationship this much.

‘You don’t have to accept it but please don’t let this come between you and your son. Family is important and I’d hate for Gregory to lose his parents over something like this. Why should our genders matter if we love each other?’

There was more silence then and Temperance beamed at her son. Greg smiled too and reached up to squeeze Mycroft’s knee.

Mary cleared her throat after downing half the coffee Temperance had made her. ‘Is all that true, Gregory?’

‘Yes,’ Greg said firmly. ‘I’ve never been this happy before. I was happy with Millie in the beginning but towards the end we just weren’t right for each other. Mycroft... he’s different, he’s better. You have to believe me when I say that this relationship is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Mycroft’s been so wonderful. I can’t imagine my life without him.’

‘He really makes you that happy?’ Pierre asked and his son nodded. The elder Lestrade placed his cup on the table. ‘I suppose that... in time... I could accept this relationship.’ He looked up at his son, who’s mouth was falling open. ‘I still find it hard to accept, Gregory, but Mycroft clearly makes you happy. I’m willing to work on this.’

Greg swallowed and nodded. ‘Thanks Dad.’ He looked at his mum.

She sighed. ‘I don’t like it, Gregory. But I don’t want to lose you.’ She bit her lip and looked him over. ‘I’ll try, Greg, really. Maybe if we get to know Mycroft...’

Greg said, ‘All I’m asking is that you try to understand, Mum.’

‘I will,’ she said.

Temperance beamed. ‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘I think my work is done.’ She stood quickly and kissed her son on the cheek. ‘Mycroft, do try and call more often. I hate having to barge into London like this. Honestly, if Sherlock didn’t keep me updated I’d never know what was going on in your life.’

‘Mother, I’m a grown man,’ Mycroft sighed.

‘Tut, tut,’ she smiled. ‘You’re still my son.’ She turned to Greg. ‘It was lovely meeting you, Gregory, and I can see that you are good for my son. Try and feed him more; he’s too thin. And go easy on the cigarettes, dear, they will kill you. And sleep more often; you both work far too hard.’

She collected her bag and coat before saying goodbye to the Lestrades and leaving.

‘Erm... I think we should go too,’ Pierre said and stood. Greg walked his parents to the door and Pierre turned to clap his son on the back. ‘We’ll have lunch soon, okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said and kissed his mum on the cheek briefly. ‘Thank you.’

Pierre nodded and took Mary’s arm as Greg shut the door. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

‘I apologise for my mother,’ Mycroft said and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

‘No worries,’ Greg said.

‘I’m glad your parents are willing to try.’

‘Me too.’ They stood still for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s warmth. ‘Sherlock keeps your mum updated?’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘She hates how secretive I am. And Sherlock knows the only person who annoys me more than him is our mother. He calls her whenever he feels particularly vindictive towards me.’

Greg smiled and turned so he could kiss Mycroft. ‘Seems we both have weird families,’ he mumbled against Mycroft’s lips.

‘Indeed,’ Mycroft said and pulled back. ‘I think it’s time for bed. It’s been a long day.’

‘Yeah,’ Greg said and yawned, suddenly exhausted. He followed Mycroft to the bedroom and they both stripped, brushed their teeth, and climbed into bed. ‘Myc?’

‘Yes, love?’

‘Thanks for saying all those things.’

‘I was just telling the truth, Gregory,’ Mycroft said and leaned forward to kiss him.

Greg smiled. ‘Still, thanks.’

‘You are most welcome,’ Mycroft said and linked his fingers through Greg’s. The DI sighed and yawned, falling asleep in the warm embrace of the man he loved.


	11. He Does Look Quite Dashing

Things just seemed to slot into place after that. Weekly dinners were arranged and Mycroft always made sure he was free. Unless there was a massive emergency Mycroft would accompany Greg to a nice dinner at a small restaurant with his parents. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Greg’s parents began to warm to the idea of Greg and Mycroft. They would probably never accept it, not completely, but Greg didn’t care. As long as they could be happy for him and like Mycroft that was all that mattered.

Greg and Mycroft managed to fit time together into their busy schedules. They didn’t get to see each other as often as either would like but that was just the way things were.

After a month long trip Greg practically dry humped Mycroft when the politician stepped into the flat.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Food before sex?’ he asked.

‘Why?’ Greg whined and Mycroft kissed him softly. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello there,’ Mycroft smiled.

Greg dragged him into the living room where take out containers were waiting.

‘You tease me, Gregory,’ Mycroft said.

Greg grinned. ‘It’s what I do best.’

They both dropped onto the couch and opened the containers as Mycroft poured wine and got comfortable, peeling off his coat, jacket, waistcoat and tie. He smiled at Greg and they both leaned back into the couch.

Doctor Who started and Mycroft smiled at it. Greg looked at him, watched as the younger man sipped his wine, ate his takeaway, and watched the TV. He had his body twisted in Greg’s direction and his knee was pressed against Greg’s thigh.

He looked around the flat, suddenly realising he never wanted to leave. He’d been there for seven months but it had never felt like home; it had always been Mycroft’s flat. But the wardrobe was half filled with Greg’s stuff. There was beer in the fridge, his toiletries in the bathroom, his DVD’s and books stacked neatly alongside Mycroft’s. It was as much Greg’s flat as it was Mycroft’s.

Greg smiled as he realised that he was finally happy; he finally felt safe. He had a wonderful boyfriend who he loved, his divorce was final, he’d come to terms with his new sexuality. Work would always be the same, Sherlock would always be the same, but now Greg had somebody he truly loved to come home to.

‘Gregory?’

He turned to see Mycroft watching him, wiping sauce from his bottom lip.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg grinned and leaned forward to kiss Mycroft softly. ‘I’m great, actually. Erm...’

‘Yes?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Can I stay here?’ Greg asked. ‘Forever?’

Mycroft paused, blinking at him. Finally he swallowed whatever food was in his mouth and said, ‘Are you asking if you can live here permanently?’

‘Yes,’ Greg said. ‘I practically do anyway.’ He looked Mycroft over carefully. ‘Unless you don’t want me to.’

Mycroft dropped his food and wrapped his arms around Greg tightly, his lips crushing into the DI’s. ‘I want you to stay forever.’

Greg grinned. ‘Forever is a long time, Mycroft.’

‘Not long enough, my love.’

Greg smiled and leaned back, shifting closer to Mycroft, who moved so their shoulders and legs pressed together. Mycroft glanced at him every few minutes as they ate, smiling when Greg caught him.

Greg grinned back.

 

 

{oOo}

 

 

Greg yawned and pulled himself up, flipping his phone shut and dropping it back on the dresser. He stumbled from bed and went straight to the wardrobe to pull out a suit.

‘Where are you going?’ Mycroft demanded, still buried in their sheets.

Greg smiled as he reappeared, ‘Work.’

‘Why?’

‘Bills,’ Greg said and pulled his trousers on.

‘Stuff the bills,’ Mycroft yawned and Greg chuckled. ‘Come back to bed.’

‘There’s been a murder, Mycroft.’

‘Let Sherlock solve it.’

Greg shrugged into a shirt and buttoned it up as he approached. Mycroft had rolled over to his side of their bed and blinked up at his boyfriend. ‘Why do you suddenly want me to stay?’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘I love you.’

‘Mm, I think it’s because I completely fucked you last night.’

Mycroft chuckled and leaned up to steal a kiss. ‘Maybe. Is that such a bad reason to stay?’

‘It’s the perfect reason to stay,’ Greg said but pulled back. Mycroft whined as Greg grabbed his jacket. ‘I have to go, Mycroft.’

Mycroft yawned and sat up. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

‘No, go back to bed.’

But his boyfriend was already untangling himself from the sheets. He stood and stretched, giving Greg a full view of his pale and freckled torso. He ran his eyes along Mycroft’s body, right down to his muscular thighs. Mycroft smirked at him.

‘You’re doing that on purpose.’

‘Maybe.’

Greg chuckled and wrapped his arms around Mycroft. ‘I have to go to work.’

‘And I’m taking you.’

‘You need sleep.’

‘I need you more.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘Nope.’

‘Mycroft–’

‘I won’t be home until Wednesday,’ Mycroft said and kissed his lips lightly before moving along his jaw. ‘That’s three whole days, Gregory.’

‘Mm,’ Greg mumbled as Mycroft’s lips pressed against the tender area beneath his ear.

‘That’s three whole days without you, without touching you like this...’ he trailed off as his warm, soft hands ran along Greg’s neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. ‘That’s three whole days of not breathing the same air as you.’ He mumbled the last sentence against Greg’s lips and the DI swallowed.

‘Uh huh.’

‘I won’t be able to do this,’ he whispered and let his hands fall to grip Greg’s hips. ‘Or this.’ He thrust himself forward softly and his erection pressed against Greg’s. ‘Three days, Gregory.’

Greg suddenly found that he didn’t really want to go to work. How could he possibly leave when Mycroft was pressing against him like that? How could he leave when Mycroft was gripping his hips and running his lips along his jaw?

‘Gregory?’

‘Kiss me,’ Greg moaned. Mycroft pressed his lips against his boyfriends softly and Greg pulled him forward. He threaded his fingers through Mycroft’s hair and dragged him closer, crushing his lips against the politician’s. He pushed Mycroft back onto the bed and climbed atop him. ‘You... planned... this...’ he mumbled as he pushed himself forcefully against Mycroft.

‘Maybe,’ Mycroft grinned coyly and dragged Greg down. ‘Don’t you have work?’

‘Fuck work,’ Greg said and unbuttoned his shirt. Mycroft chuckled as Greg pulled at his pants.

 

{oOo}

 

Greg stepped from the sleek black car and cleared his throat as Mycroft joined him. Sally Donovan spotted them and came over.

‘Holmes and the doctor beat you here,’ Sally said. ‘What took you so long?’

Greg swallowed and scratched the back of his head. ‘Er, traffic, you know,’ he said lamely and glanced at Mycroft. Mycroft just smiled pleasantly and Sally snorted.

‘What are you doing here?’ Sherlock demanded as he and John approached.

‘I’m a cop,’ Greg said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘Not you, Lestrade,’ he said and glared at Mycroft. ‘You, why are you here?’

‘I enjoy crime scenes,’ Mycroft said. ‘The yellow tape is very soothing.’

Greg snorted and John chuckled. Sherlock scowled. ‘You are interfering with my life, Mycroft.’

‘I merely gave my partner a lift to work, Sherlock,’ Mycroft said and leaned against his umbrella. ‘There is no crime against that.’

‘And you needed to dress in a pompous suit to do that?’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Not all of us can pull off the casual look, Sherlock.’

‘I hardly dress casually, Mycroft,’ Sherlock sniffed and glanced down at his tight-fitting suit. ‘Who wears waistcoats anyway?’

‘I do.’

‘You look ridiculous.’

‘Oh, Sherlock, I’m hurt,’ Mycroft said. ‘Surely you are just jealous.’

‘Of what?’ Sherlock demanded. ‘Your thinning hair and weight gain?’

‘Not all of us can weigh less than fifty kilograms, Sherlock,’ Mycroft huffed. ‘Some of us actually enjoy eating.’

‘Some of us enjoy stuffing our faces,’ Sherlock said.

Mycroft glared at him. ‘I hardly stuff my face.’

Sherlock smirked. ‘Did I touch a nerve, Mycroft? Are you unhappy with your appearance?’

‘My appearance is just fine thank you very much,’ Mycroft said. ‘At least I don’t look like a racoon.’

‘A raccoon?’ Sherlock spluttered.

‘Do you style your hair like that on purpose or does it naturally look like a bird’s nest?’

‘I am not about to take fashion advice from you!’ Sherlock spat. ‘I am far better looking!’

‘You are not.’

‘John would agree with me.’

‘Gregory would agree with _me_.’

It had become a full blown Holmes bickering session and Greg and John both knew they were about to get dragged in. They quickly retreated and left Sally Donovan to question a witness as they walked to the body.

‘Tell me about the victim,’ Greg said and glanced her over.

‘Woman, thirty-two,’ John said. ‘Strangled, Sherlock says with barbed wire.’

‘I see,’ Greg said and took out his notebook. He wrote down what John had found. When he was done he glanced over to see that Mycroft and Sherlock were still arguing.

‘Let me guess,’ John said, turning to Greg. ‘You agree with Mycroft; the elder Holmes is far better looking than the younger.’

Greg smiled and looked at John, whose eyes were on Sherlock. Sherlock was arguing with his hands and Mycroft was leaning on his umbrella as he snapped at his brother. He glanced at Greg briefly and smiled. Suddenly Sherlock’s voice rose higher and Mycroft retorted with something that had Sherlock balling his hands into fists.

‘You have to admit, John,’ Greg said and gestured at Mycroft with a nod. ‘He _does_ look quite dashing in those suits.’

 

{THE END}

 

 


End file.
